


save me and I shall save you

by anathebookworm



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dynamic Duo, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, I promise, Josh Lives, Mentions of Smut, Mike POV, Mike centric, No Wendigo!Josh, Post-Game, Teen Angst, Unhealthy amounts of fluff, because I say so, daring duo - Freeform, everyone is going to be happy, like off screen smut, useless teen angst I mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2018-11-03 13:21:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10968087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anathebookworm/pseuds/anathebookworm
Summary: Mike and Sam have a moment alone during their horror night that can take their relationship somewhere unexpected. Includes unhealthy and pointless amounts of fluff and angst.(Obviously, Mike and Sam are endgame here.)(Edited to include some new chapters and stuff from The Inpatient!)





	1. Friendship

**Author's Note:**

> Mike haters, get out of here while you still can. This story probably isn’t for you. I do love Josh and Jess, and have written Josh/Sam and Mike/Jess and even Mike/Hannah before, but Mike/Sam is very special to me. With that said, please remember they are all pretty freaked out after they learn of Josh’s prank and the wendigo. They are bound to do and think stupid things. But this story will NOT, in any way, bash any character. I promise.
> 
> Here, Emily was never bitten and so the drama related to that doesn’t happen. Also, Chris and The Stranger managed to save Josh in the shed before Hannah got to him. So yay! Everyone is okay.
> 
> ~as of January 24, 2018, later chapters were edited and some stuff from The Inpatient was added. Chapters 5 and 7 are completely new, chapters 8 and 9 have been edited to include more stuff.

“Fuck! Fuck, Sam. Where are you?”

The urge to scream is strong, but the urge to just survive, to keep himself and the others alive, is far greater.

Though Sam could go easier on him and not disappear like that.

“Sam, please. Where are you? It…it’s just me now. It’s Mike.”

She doesn’t answer using words, but he hears her sharp intake of breath. Soft sobs. It breaks something inside his chest, something he can’t honestly name. But then again, he's already broken on the outside—doesn't even have his fingers anymore, for fuck’s sake—and has been broken on the inside for far too long.

He wonders if anyone noticed at all.

Did Jess notice? Em? Matt?

_Sam?_

No, he doesn’t think they did.

But he doesn’t want to think about that either, because he needs to find Sam first.

She’s huddled up in a corner in the basement, near a fuckload of monitors. Hugging her legs, rocking her upper body.

“Sam?” He tries again, slowly kneeling next to her. “Can you...hear me?”

She huffs, not bothering to look at him. “I can hear you just fine.”

“Are you okay?”

“No,” she says with a bitter laugh. This time Sam tilts her head up, her eyes meeting his. “Are you?”

“I’m trying not to think about that, to be honest,” he says with a grimace. _Will it ever be possible to smile, fool around after tonight?_

“Not having much luck with that. Not when things keep getting worse and worse.”

 _Worse?_ He shakes his head, trying to understand what she’s actually saying. The old man died—the thing got him before any of them could even think about doing something to help—but both Chris and Josh came back. Both are fine, safe for now. Or as safe as anyone can be on this mountain, anyway.

He thought Sam would be happier to see Josh. Weren’t they a thing?

Well, if they were, probably aren’t anymore. Not after what Josh did to them all.

_Oh._

Understanding dawns on him. _Josh._ She didn’t want to be near Josh.

Mike doesn’t particularly fancy himself a cold person—he’s awkward when too many feelings are involved, but not cold, no—but...he doesn’t have the foggiest on what to do.

His brain insists that the best thing to do—the only thing to do—is hug her, offer her some sort of physical comfort. That’s what people usually want from him, and it’s easy enough to offer. So that’s what he does, gently hugs Sam with one arm. When she doesn’t scream or hit him or anything, he snakes his other arm around her waist.

She’s frozen for the longest time, _and maybe it was a mistake, maybe she doesn’t want his comfort, maybe she’s as pissed with him as she is with everyone else, maybe—_

She leans against his shoulder. It hurts like a bitch, because everywhere hurts really. But he doesn’t wince. He can’t. She’s finally accepting his comfort, and God, finally—

“We don’t really have the time to mope, do we?” She whispers, her arms curling around his middle in a tight embrace. Jesus, she’s warm. So, so warm. So different from this mountain, this lodge, this fucking nightmare.

“I think there’s nothing wrong with stealing a few moments,” Mike assures her, smiling triumphantly that she still didn’t let go of him. Maybe he does have a friend in her. Maybe she doesn’t hate him, after all.

“But Josh—”

“—is completely fine. Chris has him for now. Just…can you think about yourself for once in your life, Sam? Forget about the others. Just take a breather.”

She snorts, “As if now’s the time.”

“Please, Sam.”

She stays quiet for a long while, only muttering something under her breath as she adjusts herself on his arms.

"What?" He asks, frowning.

“I asked if you're trying to use your charm on me,” Sam repeats, making Mike raise both eyebrows. “What? It’s a valid question. Ever since I met you, I’ve seen you use your charm to get away with pretty much everything.”

He wants to ask if she thinks he’s charming, if there’s a chance in hell she’s going to look his way one day. But she’s too good. Untouchable. And now isn’t the time.

So he forces a chuckle. “Why yes, and I do believe it’s working to make you relax.”

“It’s wrong, you know.”

_Of course I do. Everything about me is wrong, fucked up._

“What?”

“Relaxing. It’ll get us killed.”

“Well, that’s another thing I’m trying not to think about.”

“So you’re thinking about _what_ , then?”

_About how good it feels to hold you._

_About how wrong it is, but how I don’t really care._

_About how I got your best friend killed._

_Possibly got my girlfriend killed, too._

_And yet, I’m thinking about cuddling with you._

“About dogs,” he says instead, a small grin appearing on his face when Wolfie comes to mind. God, he hopes the little guy is safe. Would it be wrong to bring him to LA with them if they survive?

Sam barks a surprisingly quiet laugh. “Dogs? Really?”

“I like dogs. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I’ll have you know that I prefer cats, since that’s what you want to discuss.”

“Oh. There go my plans of marrying you, then. We couldn’t have both a dog and a cat. They’d fight too much.”

She doesn’t answer him at first. _Was that too far? Did he hit a nerve?_ It’s so awful to walk on eggshells, but the last thing he wants is to hurt Sam.

“I think it’s fine to have both if they grow up together. This way, they can get used to each other.”

_Like we did?_

Because they are so different, aren’t they? Ever since they met, when he still thought girls had cooties. But she was different, and always there. It’s an awful thing to think, but they became friends because he forced himself to see her as a boy. She acted like one most of the time, doing stuff most of his friends were scared of.

But then they grew up, and drifted apart. He always thought it was normal, because not many people keep their childhood friends around. Right?

After Sam became friends with the Washingtons, they started to go out again. Talk. It was...surprising to finally see her as a girl. He wanted to make a move for ages, but Josh was always there, hovering over Sam.

And then there was Hannah, hovering over _him_.

Jesus, why did his life have to take that turn? Isn’t there a way to go back in time, change stuff? He would keep Sam closer while they grew, and would be as far away from the Washingtons as possible. All he did was cause them pain, _kill them_. If he was never around, then it’d be different.

Or maybe he wouldn’t even need to go back that much. He could just go back to the night of the prank, and talk to Hannah like a decent person.

 _I’m sorry Han, really am. But I kinda have a girlfriend right now, one I’m trying to find a way to gently break up with so I can finally ask_ your _best friend to go out with me._

Yeah, because that’d have gone so well. Hannah would probably have run into the blizzard anyway, and Sam would still hate him. Maybe hate him even more. And tell him where to stuff it.

That rejection would have been…harder than everything else.

“You still there?” Sam pokes his chest, her mood seemingly improved.

He just blinks at her, not finding his voice. _How is it that she can hug him when hating his guts?_ All the comfort he was feeling leaves him, and he feels just…shame.

He’s _wrong_ , and nothing but darkness.

He deserves the hate of every single one of their friends. He deserves _her_ hate.

He’s just wrong, wrong, WRONG.

A light touch to his injured hand makes him gasp, and his eyes almost fall from his head when he sees Sam intertwining her fingers with what remains of his.

It hurts.

So fucking much.

But not just physically.

He’s not even thinking when he pulls his hand away, hides it behind his back, where she can’t see it. She already knows he’s broken—she knows _everything_ —but he doesn’t want her looking at _that_. Proof that now he’s not even whole anymore.

Sam looks up at him, eyes bright and round and confused and beautiful.

It hurts.

He doesn’t realize he’s looking away until she gently tugs his chin down. “Mike?”

He just shakes his head. How can he tell her what’s he’s feeling? He can’t find the words to explain his embarrassment to himself, let alone to her.

“It’s bothering you again?”

She knows. Of course she does. But how much?

“It’s fine.”

“I…maybe we should ask Josh about a-a first aid k-kit. Antiseptic would be good.”

“No,” he says with a shake of his head. “We don’t have the time for that.”

“But if it’s hurting you—”

“It’s not. Don’t...don’t worry about it, Sam. There are worse things that could happen to me.”

“If it’s not hurting, then why can’t I touch you?”

“I…it…” He swallows the words, tries to keep them locked up on his chest. But they still find a way to escape. “It’s _ugly_.”

She laughs. “Michael Munroe, you’re never going to be ugly. No matter how fucked everything gets, ugliness isn’t something you need to worry about. You’re a crazy, suicidal bastard, sure. But not—”

“—gee, thanks.”

“—not ugly. I’m serious.”

“Yeah, and you're probably thinking I’m shallow for even being worried about missing stupid fingers when it could’ve easily been my entire hand. My arm.”

He’s not sure where the self-deprecating tone comes from, but it feels good to say that out loud. He’s been thinking about that for too long, and at least now someone knows.

“I never said that,” Sam says, rolling her eyes. She reaches behind his back to wrap her hands around his injured one, so delicately. With nothing but feather-light gestures, almost like she’s afraid he’s going to break. Snap.

He wonders if she’s had moments like these with Josh, where she’s afraid someone she cares about is going mad. Where she’s afraid to touch them and make things worse.

“Mike,” Sam calls, trying to bring him back to the present. “It’s okay. It really is. After we get out of here, we’ll go to a hospital. They’ll fix the pains. And it won’t feel ugly anymore.”

“They can’t glue the fingers back here, can they?” He shakes his head. “The messed up thing is that I still feel them. Like, I can feel them touching your hand. It’s fucked up.”

“It’s normal.”

“Is that Dr. Giddings speaking?”

“It’s your friend speaking, Michael. Stop acting like a child, and look at me.” He still refuses, and she grabs his chin again. “If you want to worry about something, worry about the wendigo outside. Not if people are going to find you attractive or not.”

 _It’s not_ people _,_ he thinks with a snort. _It’s you. And it’s not about being attractive—it’s about being too broken. Never whole enough._

He allows her to hold his hand for a while longer, though. If that’s what she wants, he won’t deny her. They are friends. And he doesn’t have enough friends to risk losing her.

“You know, I wish we could just wait here,” she says after a moment. “It’s so quiet, isn’t it? I can’t hear the wendigo, and I certainly can’t hear the panic upstairs. It’s almost like everything was just…a bad dream.”

“I wish it was.” He shakes his head. “But…”

“I know.” She squeezes his hand just a tad bit tighter, enough to offer comfort of her own. “But I still feel like it’s okay, the two of us talking. Like we used to. When…when did we stop—”

“It’s my fault,” he cuts her off.

“No, Michael,” Sam says with what almost sounds like a chuckle. “Not everything is your fault. It was just a rhetorical question.”

“But still, if I just…if I were there, maybe we could have stayed better friends. I…I don’t know what happened. But if we survive this,” he starts, heart hammering on his throat. Fucking Jesus, that was it. What he had been trying to do for so long. Funny that he needed to almost die to realize he had the guts to talk to her. “If we survive…”

“Yeah?”

Or maybe he doesn’t have the guts.

No.

He can do that.

He takes deep breaths, and blurts, “If we survive, would you like to…uh, kinda…go out, sometime?”

“Like we used to do? Climbing and running and maybe swimming?”

“All the three, if you want to.”

He can almost see the gears in her head, the questions her eyes are asking. The doubts. The pain of so much baggage.

But then her face splits in a smile, and Mike breathes a sigh of relief.

“That’d be awesome. We’ll go somewhere hot, alright? I don’t want to see snow again for a long time.”

“Really?” he smiles as well, so happy. So glad. She said yes. She said YES.

“Really.” He’s about to do something stupid—like kiss her, God forbid—when her face suddenly falls. “As long as…you don’t plan on stealing my clothes, and making me run around like a mad woman. I…I can’t have another go at that.”

Oh.

That’s why she was hiding. It had nothing to do with the wendigos. Sure, it might have _something_ to do with the wendigos, but she’s more worried about Josh.

He has no idea what the nutcase did to her, but God, he wants to hurt something. The thought is a fleeting one—and not one he’d ever follow through, no matter what might have happened—but for a second he wishes Chris didn’t find Josh in the shed after all. At least, he wishes he could’ve had a chance to hurt Josh a little more. How…what his mind could possibly have come up as excuse to hurt Sam like that?

If Josh had targeted him—or Jess, or Emily, or even Matt—he’d understand. Say it was okay, really. He deserved it. But Sam…she never did anything wrong. Hannah loved Sam, and Sam loved Hannah. The same was true regarding Beth and Sam’s relationship.

And yet Josh felt _she_ was the one who needed punishment? _Why?_

He doesn’t even realize it when he hugs Sam, missing fingers to be damned. She already touched his hand without flinching, he can hug her all he wants. Hugs are comfort. Sam needs comfort.

“It’s going to be okay,” he promises her. If it got down to this, he’d gladly give up his life to spare hers. If the wendigos wanted someone, they could have him. It was alright. He deserved it. “We’re going to get you out of here, and you’re going to start a new life.”

She doesn’t get the chance to answer before a loud, bone-chilling screech echoes. Mike shudders, because holy shit, holy shit, how close are the things? It’s an involuntary move, but he pulls Sam closer to him, trying to shield her in some way.

In a split second later, the others come rushing down into the basement, shouldering past each other. He doesn’t let go of Sam, and she doesn’t push him away. A small, stupid and inconsequent part of his brain wants Josh to see them hugging, to at least feel some sort of pain.

“It came back, it’s outside again,” Emily pants, dropping down to her knees near him and Sam. She doesn’t seem to notice anything around her, just focusing on her breathing. “I…I…I saw it banging its head on the windows. It wants to get in. Oh my God. We’re going to die.”

“Did it actually get in?” Mike asks, looking around in panic. The screeches are still echoing, but it doesn’t seem like the others were followed. “You locked the door after you got in, right? We…we’re safe here?”

“We did,” Ashley says with a nod, looking so, so pale. It’s a stark contrast against her red hair, making her look almost sickly. “But I don’t know for how long we’re going to be safe.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ash—” Chris reaches out for her, but she shrugs him off.

“What happened?” Mike insists. “You said it didn’t get in yet!”

“It didn’t!” Ashley counters angrily. Then she casts her eyes downwards, shuffling her feet. “But it…it was so close. What if it’s already inside the lodge?”

“Then it’s a good thing you locked the doors,” Sam says, finally detangling herself from Mike. “We should stay put now, right here, until dawn. At least we’re safe here—”

“Oh? Yeah? All wrapped like a little present with a bow on top for that thing to tear us apart on Christmas morning?”

Sam shakes her head, though surprisingly she keeps her hand in his. “People will come for us, Mike. In the morning.”

“Are you honestly sure of that, Sam? Honestly?”

“That’s what’ll happen. Right, Em? _Right?_ ”

Em looks startled to be thrust on the conversation. “Yeah. I-I-I guess…”

“Fuck it. Fuck it all,” he runs his other hand—his good, uninjured hand—through his hair. Sam tightens her hold on him, it actually starts hurting. But Mike can’t be sure if what hurts is the desperation in her eyes or her hold on him. “I’ll find a way to get us all outta here. We’re all going to be safe.”

“Listen, man. I hear you. I get it,” Chris says, walking forward to clasp Mike on the shoulder. “We want to keep everyone safe. But hell, I _was_ out there and…there’s nothing for us to find. The thing will tear us apart in one second. That’s what it did to the old man. Right in front of me.”

“Besides, the only way out of this mountain is by bus or using the cable car,” Emily adds, her breath coming out in cold puffs of air. “Bus is obviously out of question, and there’s no key to the cable car because—”

She pauses, and her eyes widen. Mike doesn’t have time for this shit though—can’t she see they really need a fucking good plan?

“Because of what?” He insists, gesturing for her to go on.

“Because the key is with Josh,” Emily finishes, her eyes moving to somewhere on the left corner of the room.

All the air, the breath, is sucked out of Mike.

Of course, Josh’s still here.

But he can’t punch the man in the face, not yet at least. He needs to relax. Deep breathes. Do stuff like Sam does, and take deep yoga breaths.

After he’s sure he’s kind of calmer, he follows Em’s eyes until he finds Josh, sitting near the monitors. God, he wants to punch Josh in the face so fucking much.

Perhaps Josh realizes that— _good, he’s better be sure of that!_ , his brain screams—because when Mike marches up to him, the other man flinches, curling in on himself.

“Mikey,” Josh whispers. “I’m-I’m-I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t have time for that, so he just gestures to the palm of his hand. “Give me the key, Josh.”

“I’m sorry,” Josh repeats in a small voice, shaking his head. “I-I-I don’t h-have the key. It fell from my pocket.”

“It fell,” Mike repeats, pulling on the ends of his hair with both hands. “It fell. Great. Wonderful. Just what we needed.”

“Take it easy, man!” Chris interrupts, pointing an accusing finger to Mike. “It’s not his fault.”

“It’s not?” He barks a laugh. “He invited us here just to scare the shit outta us. Guess getting us all killed is a nice bonus!”

“He didn’t mean for that to happen!”

“Guys, enough!” Ashley grabs Chris’ arms to pull him away from Mike. “We shouldn’t fight now. It’s wrong. Let’s-let’s just…sit down there, alright?”

Mike’s breaths come out in ragged puffs, and he can feel his heart speeding up, the rage boiling again. Jesus. He needs to calm down. That’s not the time.

 _But Josh hurt Sam,_ the angry part of his mind complains. _Because of Josh’s prank, Sam is more terrified than she should be. He hurt her. He was supposed to be her friend, and he_ hurt _her._

His fingers curl in a fist.

But then, before he can even think about the stupidity he was going to do, another set of fingers curl around his. Then slowly—ever so slowly—his hands relax again, and his breathing starts to even.

Sam tugs him to another corner of the room and makes him sit down on a table before doing the same.

“Are you alright?” she asks.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m just—”

“Angry,” she finishes with a nod. “I know. Me, too. It…hurts to even look at him, you know? I always thought we shared a connection, a bond. More so when the…the twins d-died. I thought we were the only ones who understood. Clearly, I was wrong.”

Hearing her say that doesn’t quell the anger he feels about what Josh did to her, but it’s enough to give him something else to focus.

“I’m sorry,” Mike says, head hanging low. Guilty bubbling up on his chest. He killed Hannah. He killed Beth. And God help him, or he was going to end up killing Josh and not actually feel sorry about it. “You didn’t deserve this.”

“Neither did you,” Sam answers, bumping her shoulders with his. “It’s a shitty situation. I just…want to wake up.”

A lump forms on his throat—one he can’t swallow down.

“I’m…sorry.”

Sam wraps one arm around his waist, leaning on his shoulders. It’s…surprising, to say the least. How willing she is to make physical contact with him when the others can see everything.

“You’re not thinking about doing something stupid, are you?”

_Like kissing you? Right now? In front of everyone?_

“I’m always thinking about doing something stupid, Sam.”

“But not stupid enough to get yourself killed.” It’s not exactly a question, but it sure sounds like one to him. And he doesn’t know how to answer that. Because honestly, if there was a wendigo right here, right now, targeting her? He sure would do something stupid that’d probably cost him his life. But it’d be worth it, dying with some redemption.

“Sam—”

“Listen, if you want to go outside, alright. Let’s do it. But I’ll go with you. We’ll kick some wendigo butts together.”

Is it wrong to want to just…hold her and cry? He hopes it isn’t—that it isn’t pushing her boundaries regarding their relationship—because his arms tighten around her, and he hides his face on her hair.

“If I die—” he starts to say, but she doesn’t allow him to finish. She slaps his chest hard, and he starts coughing. “Ow. Goddammit, Sam. You could’ve kissed me or something.”

_Unless you wouldn’t kiss me even if I were the last man on Earth?_

“You keep dreaming about that,” she huffs. “And while you’re doing it, put it inside your big head that you’re not going to die.”

“But if I do—”

“You won’t.”


	2. Darkness

He doesn’t die—but it’s a pretty damn close call.

“Can you answer our questions now, Michael?” the policewoman asks, making his head snap up. Gee, his head’s spinning. The whole room’s spinning. Is that…normal?

He forces his brain to calm the fuck down, at least for a moment, so he can stare properly at the woman. Questions. Yeah. That’s what she said.

“I…I don’t know what to say,” he tells her with a shrug, but even that hurt.

“You can start by telling us why you came to the Washington Lodge.”

“Because…ugh, because Josh invited me. I said yes.”

She crosses her fingers together, and he’s reminded—once again, goddammit—of how he’s lost two of his. Shit, he can still feel them. Like he told Sam before, like his skin was still touching everything it wasn’t.

Wait.

_Sam!_

After the lodge exploded, he had run to her, hugging her as tightly as possible. But then he just…fainted. Like a potato sack. Where is she now? Is she okay? Is she hurt? He racks his brain, but there's nothing. He can't remember if she's alright.

“—tell me exactly—” he realizes the woman is still speaking, and holds up both hands to shush her up.

“Wait, wait, wait. Did you talk to Sam already? How is she? Did she say—”

“Miss Giddings is being looked over as we speak,” the woman informs him. “From as far as I could see, her injuries weren’t severe. But no, we still didn’t speak with her properly.”

“I need to see her,” he says, getting up from his chair. “I need to see it for myself if she’s okay.”

“You will,” the policewoman assures him, though she still looks oddly cold, detached from the situation. Didn’t she see the bodies of the wendigos in the remains of the Lodge? Didn’t she see the others who were still walking around, alive? How can she be calm if she saw all of that? “But first you need to answer my questions, Mr. Munroe. You’ll be free to see your girlfriend after that.”

“She’s not…uh, my girlfriend.”

“Be that as it may, I need you to try and give me as many details as possible. Your friends mentioned someone was chasing you. Do you know who that was?”

“Josh,” he breathes out, shaking his head. “He was out of his fucking mind. He wanted to hurt us. Yeah, he...and...I thought he was the one who attacked Jess.”

“So you’re telling me it wasn’t him, then? It wasn’t him who was chasing you?”

“No…no, I mean…yes. He chased after Sam and Chris and Ashley…I thought he was going to hurt them. Sam told me…she…she said he drugged her. I really thought for a moment that he killed Jess...but…he didn’t…but he still hurt the others…”

“I see,” she nods to the man sitting next to her, and he scribbles something down almost furiously. “Do you remember anything else about Mr. Washington?”

“He…I don’t know, man. He was out of it. Completely fucking out of it. He screamed at us, said some stuff that didn’t make sense. But he’s…he’s okay, right? He’s here?”

“He is,” she says. “My partner has him and Miss Giddings in another room to see what they remember, too. As soon as they're looked over properly, they are going to be interviewed.”

“What? You what? No, no, no, no!” Mike exclaims, jumping from the chair. “You can’t keep the two of them in the same room. Sam’s going to kill him! She…she was so…scared of what he did…”

“We understand that, Mr. Munroe. I assure you, there is no need to worry about such a thing. But since we have approached the issue with murder…your friend Christopher mentioned an old man.”

He wants to protest some more, to get the hell out of here and find Sam. He wants to…hide her from the world, at least for a week or so. At least until she heals.

But the fight has pretty much left him now that everything seems to be over.

Or it’d be, if these fuckers just heard a word of he was saying.

“Yeah.” He runs his injured hand through his hair and winces. Fucking shit. He keeps forgetting about that. “Grandpa…he tried to help. But the thing got him. He’s dead.”

“He was your grandfather?”

Mike snorts. “Of course not. But can’t you hear what I’m saying? The thing _got_ him. It probably dragged the body down into the mines. If you just went there…if you just…you’d understand…”

“What is down there, Michael? What’s in the mines?”

“A shitload of madness,” he whispers. “And the answer to what you morons couldn’t figure out. Hannah…and…and Beth, they’re there. Or whatever’s left of them anyway.”

“Hannah and Beth Washington, you say? The missing twins?”

“Aren’t you listening?!” He yells, slamming his hands down. This is a waste of time. It’s obvious why they didn’t find Hannah and Beth last year, they have no idea what they’re even doing. “They’re not _missing_. They’re _dead_. Ask all the others, they’ll say the same thing. We know what happened to the girls now.”

“What happened to the girls?”

“They fucking _died_! Why can’t you just listen to me?”

“Mr. Munroe, please calm down. You lost too much blood, you can’t get agitated like that—”

“Then just let me go! I answered your stupid questions, and you ignored everything I said. There’s no use for me here!”

“Mr. Munroe, I will not say that again. Calm down.”

“Just let me see the others! I want to talk with Sam! I—”

“This is quite enough,” the policewoman says with a hand on her forehead. “You’ve answered most of my questions, anyway. Please, feel free to go after your friends.”

He’s already halfway through the door when she adds, “But _only_ those who were already interviewed!”

Mike waves her off, too busy trying to find a familiar face. Any of them. Or were they shipped off to a hospital already? He didn’t come to Canada all that much—he couldn’t anyway, not with how his family needed to save the money for pretty much everything else—but he knows there’s a hospital close by. Rockyview General Hospital or whatever.

Chris has a broken foot.

He’s pretty sure Emily at least dislodged one of her knees, too.

Ashley has some nasty bruises forming on her face.

Jess…shit, Jess was a piece of work. Hannah— _no, not Hannah, no. The thing_ —had dragged her through a rocky path, and Jess has all sorts of bruises and scratches. Plus, he’d bet his good hand that the fall from the elavator shaft was enough to crack some bones in Jess’ body.

Matt, he couldn’t be sure. He didn’t see Matt at all after the nightmare started.

Sam had been…physically okay, from what he remembers. He’s more worried about her mind, to be honest. She had seen…too much shit. He wants nothing more than to speak with her, see if there’s something he can do to help.

Plus, there’s Josh. He…he was so angry with Josh before. Still is. But not enough to wish harm on the other man. But point is, because of his anger, Mike isn’t really sure _how_ Josh is. Hurt? Fine? Scarred? He doesn’t know. Either way, he’s one-hundred-fifth percent sure Josh needs a hospital anyway—at least to get some pills to chill.

After walking for what feels like hours—fucking Jesus, why is he still this cold? Isn’t there a way for his body to just stop feeling cold?—he finally finds someone. Chris. So this means they didn’t go to a hospital yet, judging from the way Chris keeps wincing when moving his leg.

“Hey, man,” Mike says with what he hopes to be a smile. “Are you okay?”

“Not really.” Chris shrugs. “But I guess it could’ve been worse. We’re alive, at least.”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone.”

_Good. Thank God. At least he could still count with some small blessings._

“Listen…have you seen—”

“No,” Chris cuts him off with a shake of his head. “I mean, yes. Ash and Em are…are with Jess. She’s in and out of it, and we’ve been trying to tell people to just take her to a hospital. Matt, I don’t know. Josh and Sam are still being interviewed, I guess.”

“Okay…okay,” he says after releasing a shaky breath. “Did they believe in anything you said?”

“About the wendigos? Yeah, sure.” Chris rolls his eyes. “What about you?”

He snorts and shakes his head. “I’m hoping that maybe hearing everyone else…I don’t know…I…maybe they’ll go down the mines and see for themselves. I…I told them about Hannah and Beth.”

“What?” Chris almost yells before coughing. “I mean, what could you say…that would make them believe?”

“Chris, man, I…Sam and I found Beth’s bones. In the mines. There were several things that we’re sure belonged to them, too. And…and…the thing…the wendigo…”

“What? It…you’re trying to tell me…it…ate them?”

“No. No…I mean, in a way.” He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “The wendigo chasing after us…the huge one, you know? It was…it was Hannah.”

For the longest time, Chris doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even seem like he’s breathing.

But then he sobs. “You mean that Han…my friend…she…Beth? Oh my God, no, no, no. It can’t be happening.”

Mike shakes his head, clasping his good hand on Chris’ shoulders. “I’m so sorry, man. I…”

“No,” Chris says, rubbing the tears from his eyes. “Listen, Mike. This stays between you and me, okay? And Sam, whatever. You can’t tell that to Josh. He’ll…I don’t know…he’ll freak out…stop thinking completely…he can’t know…”

“Of course,” Mike says. He gets it. Part of him—a great, huge part of him—hates Josh for what he did to all of them. But if he had sisters, and one of them ate the other…he wouldn’t want to know. Better to preserve the good memories. Plus, they all saw what happens when Josh snaps. “I won’t say anything.”

“We’ll need to speak with Sam…make sure she doesn’t say anything either.”

“I’ll talk with her,” Mike says with a shrug, though he’s happy at the opportunity that’s presenting itself. “She’ll understand.”

“And…shutting up right now,” Chris whispers, making Mike frown.

But then he hears a shuffling of feet. And voices.

“Sam?” he turns around slowly, not wanting to faint again or something. And there she is, talking in hushed tones with a policeman. He barely hears them, but there’s something about looking for help after a traumatic experience, talking with someone she trusts.

His heart clenches on his chest, because he knows Sam. He knows how she thinks, how her mind works. She won’t look for help because she’ll think she didn’t suffer enough. She told him, in no uncertain terms, that whatever happened with her was nowhere near what happened to the others. To _him_.

But he’d speak with her, find a way to make her see that she could take some comfort from him.

The policeman walks away, and Sam finally looks at him. Like, _really_ looks at him. And she smiles—it’s a barely-there sort of thing, but he can see the tilt of her lips—and runs to hug him.

“Hug” being an understatement—he’d prefer the wording to be “tack him to the ground.”

“You’re awake!” She says with a bigger smile, her hold tightening on his middle. “They didn’t tell me! How long…? Are you okay? You’re looking like hell.”

“Always nice to be complimented,” he mutters, though a smile takes over his face while he hugs her back. “I’m fine though. Just…want to go home, you know?”

“Yeah,” she says with a nod he can feel more than see. “Yeah.”

“Hey…are _you_ , uh, okay?”

Sam buries her face in his neck, and it takes a lot of self-control to stop himself from shivering. Jesus, human contact after all that shit is good. More than good.

“I’m not hurt,” she answers finally. “Just some burns from the explosion, but…I’ll live.”

“Are you sure?” he insists. “I’m not a judger, you know.”

“I’m sure,” Sam insists as well. “And anyway, I’m more worried about everyone else really. Do you know how they are? Or when we’re going to a hospital?”

“I spoke with Chris, and he seemed…fine. Shaken up, with a broken foot, but fine.”

“That’s good,” she says with another nod. “Good. I…what about your fingers? Are they still hurting? Did they give something to help with the pain?”

“The policewoman gave me some pills when I woke up, and told me I lost too much blood. But to be honest, I feel fine.”

“Fine” being “like shit.” Physically, he’s hurting everywhere. His cheek’s swollen like he hid a melon there, both of his hands are throbbing, and he’s damn sure there’s something wrong with his right leg. Emotionally…he doesn’t even know. It’s a mess.

But he won’t say any of that to Sam, because she’ll worry.

“Hey…” she detangles herself from him to take his injured hand between both of hers. Again, like she did when they were in the basement. “It looks like they cleaned it up a little, at least. But you could still have an infection…and…I can still see your bones poking through, which isn’t good.”

“Okay, Dr. Giddings, enough of that,” he says with a playful shove of shoulders. Though he does it mostly because hearing her speak like that is making him turn green and his stomach churn. He didn’t cut off his goddamned fingers properly, he knows that. It’s more than likely that the doctors are going to need to cut a little more, just to make sure everything’s okay.

And _that_ is not something his stomach finds much pleasant.

“Sorry.”

She lets go of his hand, and he feels strangely empty without their skin making contact.

“I was meaning to ask…” he starts, remembering what Chris said. “I…Josh, he—”

“I don’t want to talk about Josh,” she declares, her face closing off immediately.

“It’s not what you think,” he says gently, though he wants to speak with her properly. Make her see that she can talk with him. The policeman did say talking helps. “Chris…I…I, uh, told him. About Hannah and Beth and the wendigo. He doesn’t want…for Josh to know what really happened…”

There’s still an angry cloud covering her eyes, but she nods anyway. “I get it. I’d have preferred not to know, too. But I’m doing it for _them_ , and not him. Their memory is the only thing we can keep now, I guess.”

“Yeah,” he says, not managing to control the urge to offer her a one-armed hug. “But I want you to know, Sam, that when you’re ready to talk…I’m here. For whatever you need.”

She nods, but otherwise remains silent.

* * *

 

The next time he sees her, he’s waking up in a hospital bed. They did something with his hand to fix the mess he did with his fingers, and he—like the brave chap he is—had to be put down for a moment.

The fact that it’s Sam who is resting her head on his bed—holding his hand in what almost feels like protection—and not Jess doesn’t bother him as much as it should.

“Sam?” he croaks out, voice a little raspy. “Are you awake?”

She doesn’t answer—and that’s answer enough. Mike wills his body to relax, his heartbeat to slow the fuck down. It’s just Sam. His friend. Yeah, he might have the hugest crush on her—and whatever pills the doctors made him swallow are making him way more okay with everything—but she’s still his friend, first and foremost.

Plus, why the fuck would she want anything to do with him anyway? Not only does he has the worse reputation regarding women, but he also got her best friends killed.

It’s a miracle she wants to spend time with him. As his friend or whatever.

“I can hear you thinking,” Sam says with a loud yawn. His eyes snap to hers, and…she’s smiling. “How are you feeling?”

“A little high,” he says, and suddenly he wants to laugh. Fuck, no. Laughing is not okay right now. Stupid pills.

“Well, aside from that?”

“I…honestly, Sam? I don’t know yet.” He says, turning away from her. “My mind keeps replaying all that stuff, and yet my brain says it’s not real.”

“It was,” she answers with a long, sad sigh. “God, I wish it wasn’t. But it did happen, Mike. It did.”

He reaches out to hold her hand again, but his fingers refuse to obey him. Fucking hell. He tries, and tries some more, but all he does is move his hand a little. Sam seems to understand what he wants anyway, because she grabs his uninjured hand.

“Can I ask you something?” he whispers, not trusting his voice. If he says this stuff too loudly, he might ruin the moment and drive her away.

She takes deep breaths—three of them—and nods. “As long as it’s not about…you know.”

“I…I…do you hate me, Sam?”

She pulls her hand from his in a second, and for him it’s answer enough.

But then, Sam’s hands fly to his hair, caressing it slowly. It usually makes him sleepy when people play with his hair—reminds him of his mom, too.

“Why would I hate you? Of all the people?” she asks with what almost sounds like a snort. “You had my back all the time back there. You thought of how…how to get rid of the wendigos. I trust you with my life, Michael.”

“But before that…before…last year…”

Her hands go still for a moment. “We can’t change the past. All we can do is move forward. And like I said, after yesterday, I trust you with my life.”

He mulls over her words, and the funny thing is that…when he arrived at the lodge yesterday, using the cable car, there was this note Josh left for them. _The past is beyond our control._

Well, if there’s one thing Josh got right, it’s that. But still, the past refuses to leave them alone, too.

“But what I…what I did to Hannah…”

“Was a terrible, shitty thing, yes. I wanted to kill you back then,” Sam says without really caring about his reaction. “But if you consider the number of times Hannah tried to return the favor yesterday, well…”

She stays silent for a long minute before blurting out, “The thing is…I think she remembered us, you know? She was directing so much hate to all of us. It wasn’t just the monster. So I guess at least one small part of her was aware it was…well, that it was us she was chasing. And anyway, that was hate enough for me. I don’t want to…hate anyone else. Or be hated like that again.”

“No one hates you, Sam," he says, absorbing that part of her speech first. “For real, if you find one person in this world that hates you, then you’ll have to inform me.”

“Hannah seemed to hate me a lot back then.”

“ _Person_ , Sam. Not monster. Hannah never hated you when she was still…human.”

“Well, there’s Jo—”

“I thought you didn’t want to go there yet?” He interrupts her, mostly because he knows she doesn’t want to talk about that right now. If Sam wants to talk about Josh with him, then he doesn’t want her to freak out later. So he asks, “Hey, do you know…if Jess is okay? I didn’t talk with her yet.”

Sam’s mood darkens even more, and she looks away from his eyes. “She doesn’t want to speak with any of us. She…I mean, I understand. We remind her of what happened. But…she asked the doctors to keep us away, so I…don’t know how she is.”

“But…but Chris told me before that Emily and Ashley were taking care of Jess. Back at the police station, I mean.”

Sam shrugs. “I’m just telling you what the doctors told me when I asked for Jess. But I did get them to say that she has…a head trauma, and major lacerations on her upper body. They said it’s looking bad, but they’re confident she’ll be okay. That’s…all that matters to me.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “After I’m out of this bed…I’ll see if she talks to me. I…it’s my fault what happened to her, Sam. If I were just faster—”

“Not everything is your fault, Mike,” she chastises. “We both know who hurt Jess. And it wasn’t you.”

“Still. I…Goddammit, I saw her being taken. Dragged through the woods. I ran after her, I swear I did, but there was so much ice…I…I slipped so many times. I could have saved her. But I didn’t.”

“Mike, are you listening to yourself?” Sam huffs, her hands moving to his face. “You did save her. Jess’ going to be fine.”

“Yeah, if that was true, she wouldn’t have a problem with seeing us.”

“She would. Trust me, she would. _I’m_ having a tough time being here and not breaking down, if you want honesty.”

That hurts…much more than he’s willing to admit. Like a full-blown bang to his chest. That could be due to wendigos tossing him around, though.

Either way, he pulls her hands away from his face, because they are _burning._ God, he failed everyone, didn’t he? Every one of his friends.

“There’s nothing keeping you here, if that’s the case,” he mutters, trying to shift his body away from her. His body was always an armor—however damaged it is now—and he can feel it trying to protect him now.

“Don’t be a jerk, Mr. Class Prez,” Sam says with a playful note. He still refuses to look at her, and she sighs. “Okay, be like that. I’ll be…out of your hair.”

 _That_ hurts.

Is there something so wrong with him that people give up this easily? He knows he’s not worth it most of the time—hell, more than half of his ex-girlfriends say that behind his back, he’s sure of it—but it’s different when one of your friends thinks that, too.

But he keeps his mouth closed, eyes cast down to his amputated fingers. Ugly things. He hates them already—and all that shit of phantom pains.

He hears Sam opening and closing the door, but he doesn’t hear her leaving. His brain and his will-power are having a screaming match inside of his head, but he ignores both to look at Sam one more time.

She’s staring at him, eyes so open and vulnerable and sad.

“You’re not going to even try and say something to make me stay?” she whispers, but shakes her head immediately after. “Should’ve known. It happened to me before, after all. But I don’t learn, apparently.”

This time, when she opens the door, she starts to exit the room. But still, she walks so slowly he knows she’s still giving him the chance to speak. His tongue feels like goo inside his mouth—though, again, that might be because of the pills he was forced to take—but he manages a low, “Wait.”

“For what?” Sam fires back, not turning to look at him. But she stops walking at least. “For _what_ , Michael? You said there’s nothing for me here.”

“I…I didn’t say that,” he tries to explain. “I just…I…don’t want to hurt you. I hurt everyone that’s around me, Sam.”

She snorts. “A martyr. That’s what I have in my hands?”

He thinks he should be offended by that, but hell, he’s not. Deep down Mike knows she’s right—he _is_ a martyr. Or at least is trying actively to be one.

“If you didn’t notice it already, I’m a big girl,” Sam continues when it becomes obvious he’s not going to speak. “If I can survive not being eaten by a monster version of my best friend…I can survive whatever you throw at me.”

Ooh, he did notice she’s a big girl. Noticed a few years ago, really.

But Josh noticed it first—unfortunately for him.

“I’m a mess, Sam,” he says seriously, shaking his stupid thoughts from his head. “And it’s probably going to become worse.”

“Well, that’s good. I’m a mess, too. And if I remember it correctly, we were pretty good at having each other’s backs,” she whispers, finally turning back to look at him in the eye again. He’s surprised to see how her own eyes are still so incredibly vulnerable. “We can keep taking care of each other. As…the friends we didn’t get to be before. I do trust you, Mike.”

He thinks his smile might be the reason his face starts to hurt so much, but the thought is quickly brushed from his mind when Sam walks to his bed again. And hugs him. So, so tightly. He wants her to never let go—he wants for her to shield him from the world, and wants to shield her back.

(The less mature part of him is just giddy that his old crush is being so okay with touching him this much.)


	3. Haunted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy you guys are enjoying this! :) I need to write only two more chapters before this story is complete, yaaay!

Two days later, the hospital staff still refuses to let them go. Say something about making sure they all okay—physically _and_ psychologically. He thinks it’s the hugest bullshit of the century, because it’s obvious they’re not okay in either way and are not going to be for a long time.

It’s starting to become…boring, though.

Mike closes his eyes, willing sleep go away for a second. He wants to think. But then a piercing, glass-shattering scream echoes through the corridor and he’s on his feet the next second.

It’s Sam’s voice. He’s heard her scream before—God, that still haunts him—and he knows it’s her. He tries to run to the door, but a tug on his left arm prevents him. Looking down at it, Mike finds the IV that’s been connected with his body for the last days. He doesn’t even think about it before tugging the thing off, doesn’t even notice the droplets of blood that run down his arm.

Sam’s screaming, which means she’s in trouble— _which means_ she needs him. She said she trusted him to have her back, and fuck him if he was going to let her down.

Her screams don’t stop, and it hurts everything inside him, but at least they guide him to her room. Mike doesn’t stop to consider what the hell he’s doing, he barges into the room and scans it for any sign of Sam. She’s not there, but the screams…

The bathroom!

He rushes to the closed door and is about to pull it open when the screams become sobs.

“Sam?” he calls, leaning his forehead against the door. How many seconds he has until the staff arrives? How much time does he have alone with her? “Sam, it’s Mike. Please, talk to me. What happened? Can I come in?”

She just sobs and sobs. He really, really wants to open the door—but decency makes him stop in his tracks.

“Sam, _please_.”

“M-m-my clothes,” she says between sobs, almost inaudibly. “I-I n-need my clothes. W-where are m-my clothes?”

He shuffles around the room in a hurry—almost falling face-first on the floor more than once—until he finds her pajamas on a chair.

“I have them,” he whispers to the door. “Can you please open the door?”

“But…but you’re not…going to hide them from me, right? You’re not going to…run after me?”

Fucking hell. It’s an episode—she’s back in the lodge, he can feel it.

_God forgive him, but modesty is going to need to wait._

He throws the door open—perhaps more roughly than necessary—and finds Sam curled on the floor near the shower, wearing nothing but a blue towel. But with her back turned to him, it’s not enough to conceal the huge burns covering the entire skin of her back.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Was she…hiding that, all this time?

Did the explosion really do that to her?

The tiles are wet and slippery, but he still kneels next to her, putting the pajamas on her lap and hugging her closely to his chest. There’s just this…urge…to protect. Protect. PROTECT.

“Sam, don’t cry,” he tells her, hiding his face in her hair. “Shh, shh. I’m here. It’s Mike. I…I won’t let anything get you, alright? I’ll die before they touch you.”

“But my clothes…” she insists, and he guides one of her hands to the bundle he put in her lap.

“They’re here. You can…put them on whenever you want. Your clothes are here, I promise. No one’s going to chase you now. It’s over. It’s over, Sam.”

“Is it?” She asks, shaking her head. Her eyes…her beautiful, strong, shiny eyes are so glassy. Dead. She’s looking at him, but not really. He honestly doubts she even knows where she is. “Is it a dream, then? Hannah…Josh…they didn’t…”

“Shh,” he insists. “Don’t think about that, please. Just…hug me. Stay with me. C’mon, Sam. You’re strong. You can fight this. You can come back to me. Please.”

She nods, and hugs him more tightly. His response is automatic, and he does the same. But his fingers accidentally brush against the marks on Sam’s back, and she winces and gasps.

He removes his hands from her immediately. “Oh my God. Oh, fuck. Fuck. Sam, I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean…I’m sorry…”

“It’s…it’s alright,” she answers between deep breaths. The good thing is that it shows him she’s back, she’s okay. “I just…I’m not used to it yet.”

“I’m so—”

“Please don’t.” She puts his hands back on her waist, and snuggles on his chest once again. “I need this right now. Please. I…I don’t know, Mike…I had these flashes…it was so awful…”

“You’re not there anymore,” he assures her, making small circles on her waist with his fingers. It’s easy to forget about her state of undress, because not even Sam herself seems to care. “I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere. If anyone ever tries to touch you again…to do something like that…I…I can stay here, waiting outside the bathroom every time you want to shower. Until you feel safe again.”

She nods, and he’s about to try and apologize again—who knows for what this time—when several nurses raid the room. And then they’re trying to separate them, tugging Sam from him. And she’s crying again, shaking her head. And he’s reaching out for her, his fingers grasping nothing but air and it’s all awful.

“You’re hurting her!” he yells with the women, trying to get to Sam again. “That’s not what she needs! You’re hurting her!”

“Sir, you’re not supposed to be here,” one of them—the older one, the one with her white hair pulled up in a bun—tries to reason with him but _fuck her_. Can’t she see that Sam needs him right now? “Please, go back to your room. We’ll take care of your friend—”

“I’m staying right here!”

“Please, sir—”

Sam manages to make them let go of her, and she runs to back to him, and he’s already opening his arms to welcome her when the door opens again.

“Sam!”

“Where is she? What you fuckers did to her?”

“Is she okay? Sam!”

It’s Ashley, Emily and Matt, respectively. Mike finds himself smiling after seeing them, because of course everyone’s worried about Sam. He told her so before—everyone loves her.

The nurses start going mad trying to make them all leave, and Mike uses the opportunity to speak with Sam again. “Hey…are you…feeling uh, better?”

She shrugs. “I’m feeling a little amused to see them so worried now.”

He wants to believe this is all she’s feeling, but the smile she offers him doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Sam…”

“I’m fine,” she says with a hard glare. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Liking it or not, I’m pretty worried.”

“I said I’m fine, Michael,” she insists.

He raises his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. No need to bring the big guns.”

She smirks, but before she can answer him, her eyes move to something behind him. He looks over his shoulders and smiles—Ashley.

“Hey…” she greets them with a small, uncertain smile. “Are you guys—?”

“We’re fine,” Sam repeats. “Just…forgot where I was for a minute.”

Ashley nods, rubbing her hand over her black eye—she doesn’t seem to realize she’s doing it, though. “I know what it’s like. Trust me.”

Mike fights the urge to wince—but goddamn it, he almost thinks Josh did a number on the girls more precious than the wendigos. He punched Ashley in the face. He’s the one responsible for making Sam paranoid regarding bathrooms.

“Not that anyone seems to mind,” Emily’s voice cuts their minute of silence, “but really Sam, are you this set in flashing all of us?”

Fuck. He forgot about that.

Sam’s still in her towel, standing in a crowded room.

He swears he must be pretty red in the face—Matt and Ash are, too—and he does his best to look away from his friend. His feet are suddenly _so_ interesting.

“Ah…er…sorry,” Sam mutters, and Mike hears her grabbing her clothes and running to the bathroom again.

Only when he hears the click of the door locking does he look up—and really, he’s shooed out of the room by the nurses the next second.

Emily bumps shoulders with him playfully. “Are you okay, big guy?”

“I…yeah, sure. Of course I am,” he says, not really thinking about his answer. “What about you?”

“I’ll live.” She shrugs. “Though I’d feel _so much_ better if I could punch Josh in the face for all the shit he made us go through.”

_Yeah, tell me about it, Em._

“If that makes you feel any better, I did punch him before,” he says, scratching the back of his neck with his bad hand.

“Hmm, no, it doesn’t make me feel better. _I_ want to be the one to punch him, if that wasn’t clear.”

“I hear his room is at the end of the corridor.”

Emily snorts, and Mike can’t help but smile. At least his relationship with her is still good, despite everything that happened. Em isn’t the sort of girl that runs away from her fears, though. It’s obvious she wouldn’t want to separate herself from them because of that night.

He appreciates that, he really does. He wants all of his friends near, as a reminder that they are all alive. They survived. They are okay.

“Hey, listen…” he starts. “I was wondering…did you…well, did you manage to speak with Jess at all?”

Emily scowls a little. “No.”

“Did you try, at least?”

“Yes.”

“But…?”

“But her parents stopped me, called me all sorts of things.” Her scowl deepens. “They moved her to another hospital, because apparently even being near us is a terrible crime.”

“Oh.” He nods, understanding. Jessica’s parents are…difficult, to say the least. They weren’t all that happy with his relationship with their daughter—but he always suspected that was because they knew he was on financial aid on school. The student body president would never be enough for them.

But he used to be enough for Jess, and to his friends.

“I spoke with her,” Matt announces, coming to put his arm around Emily’s shoulders. Mike has no idea what happened when they were down in the mines, but Matt and Emily’s relationship improved a lot. He’s happy for them—honest to God, happy. “Before she started kicking everyone out, that is.”

“And?” Em crosses her arms, looking up at him.

“I don’t know. She wasn’t making much sense, but I guess that’s because of the drugs the doctors gave her. She kept thanking me for helping her run from the…the thing, back in the mines. But that was it. I tried to talk with her again, but like Em said…her parents are…tough nuts to crack.”

“I guess that means you two aren’t a thing anymore,” Emily says with a shrug, glancing at Mike briefly.

He remains silent, but Matt chastises, “Emily, that’s an awful thing to say!”

“Well, it’s still true.”

Mike can’t do much more than blink at them, and announces after a few seconds, “I’ll…try and see if the nurses will let me stay with Sam again.”

“Yeah, do that,” Matt says, patting his shoulder with a smile. “She needs someone near her right now, I can tell.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Go save some damsels, blah, blah, blah,” Emily mutters, dragging Matt away.

Ashley is gone, too, now that he thinks about it. Must’ve decided to see Chris again—he was told Chris’ surgery went well, but he still needed to lay low for a while.

He walks back to Sam’s room—when the hell did he and Em and Matt move so far away anyway?—and is about to knock when—

No.

No, no, no.

This level of shit can’t be happening right now.

Leaning against the wall next to Sam’s door, is no one less than Josh Washington himself. He looks like a truck ran over him at least twice, but Mike can’t bring himself to care about that right now.

“What you think you’re doing here?” he asks in a hiss, slowly walking to stand next to his former friend.

“Sammy…she was screaming, I-I wanted to…see if she…well…”

Not that Josh was the most eloquent flower out there, but he seemed to have lost much more of this ability since that night.

“Well, yes. She was screaming. And guess why?”

Josh has the decency to wince. “Mike, I’m…I’m sorry, man. I really am. I just…you have to understand…what you guys did—”

“I know.” Mike runs a hand over his face, messing his hair even more than usual. “I know. And I’ve had to live with that, and it’s only going to become worse now that I know—I mean, after what happened two days ago. But tell me, honestly, _why Sam?_ ”

“It’s…complicated,” Josh whispers. He taps his head with two fingers before continuing, “I have this…thing in my head. Han and Beth are here, you see. They told me…well, not _them_ , but…hell. I can’t explain it. They want to rest. I needed to help them…with their unfinished business. But shit, Mike, I swear…I didn’t know about the things…I don’t know how I never saw them before, but I didn’t know. I mean…the things…they were _real_ , weren’t them? I didn’t make them up?”

“They were _very_ real,” he says. A part of him understands Josh, really. But still…another part of him, a stronger, selfish part, is just…angry. “They’d have killed all of us.”

“I want to understand…how I never saw them before. I mean, Han and Beth and I used to go to the lodge ever since we were kids. We never saw anything. Never.”

“I don’t the answer for that, Josh,” he says with a sigh. “And neither does Sam. Listen, if you want…to talk with her…I can understand and respect that. But if it would be better if you let one of us ask her first if it’s okay.”

He doesn’t want Josh near Sam, not if he can do anything about it. But he understands what it’s like to be forbidden to see someone you care about—and he’s not going to stop the two of them from talking. But. He wants to speak with Sam first, see if it’s okay. Her screaming from earlier is a huge indicator that she might not be okay with this at all, but…fair is fair.

“Thanks.” Josh nods, and tries to offer what Mike thinks is a smile. It looks much more like a grimace, though. “I mean it. Thank you. Just…if she doesn’t want to see me…well, can you tell her…that I’m sorry? I never wanted for Sam to get hurt.”

He sighs. “I’ll tell her.”

“And…and…tell her that I’m an idiot.”

“Oh, don’t worry. She already knows that.”

Josh cracks a bigger smile and nods once again. Then he walks away, hands in his pajama pockets.

He doesn’t waste any more time before opening Sam’s door a little to take a peek inside. She’s lying on her bed, breathing even.

“Hey…are you awake?” he whispers.

Sam makes a noise between a gasp and a cough, but answers, “Yeah. Come in, they left already.”

He does, and sits on the chair next to her bed.

“Are you feeling any better?” he asks. “Well, I know you’re fine. But are you…better than fine now?”

She smiles. “Yeah. I’m okay. Honestly okay.”

“Good. That’s…very good.” He offers her a hand, and she takes it between hers without a second thought. “I can’t wait to go home again, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” Sam intertwines their fingers and _holy shit_ , is his heart skipping a beat or what? “Mom told me before the getaway that she missed you. Like, when you used to hang out with us on holidays and stuff.”

“But that was years ago!”

“Yeah, well, that’s what she said.” Sam looks away, sounding…timid? “It doesn’t mean anything, don’t worry.”

It dawns on him what she means, and he wants to face palm himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Well, I’m sure my parents wouldn’t mind if I explained that…that I’d feel better closer to my friends. That that’s something I’d need to do to heal or whatever. If…if that’s uh, okay with your mom, I could crash on your house for a few days.”

“You’re not obligated to do that, Mike,” Sam insists, but he can hear the hope in her voice. Or at least what his brain is choosing to interpret as hope.

“I know, I know. But that’s something I want. It really would do wonders to my brain to stay close to someone who understands. I…I can’t tell the truth to my family or my friends. They’ll think I’m lying or that I finally lost it.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling. And I’m…a little scared to explain my nightmares to them and stuff.”

“That, too.”

“So, that means…”

“That means…well, that if it’s really okay, I’d like to stay with you and your family for a while,” he completes with a huge smile.

Sam stays quiet, and he can see the gears of her mind working nonstop. Then she says, “Okay.”

He doesn’t let go of her hand, and she doesn’t stop rubbing comforting circles on his. Mike’s pretty sure they doze off for a few moments, too. But he’s relaxed enough not to care about that anyway.

When he’s awake enough, he remembers Josh.

“Sam, I, uh…I spoke with Josh,” he says as honestly as possible. Being blunt isn’t one of his qualities but lying to Sam…is kind of impossible. Plus he doesn’t want to. Like, really, after their plan on the lodge…he’s sure they would never be able to lie to each other again—she read him like a goddamn book back then. “He asked about you.”

“And what did you say?” She asks with a scowl, her hand leaving his. “Wait, wait. Did you tell him I hope he fucks off? I’d love that.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“No.” Sam shrugs. “But he better believe I do.”

“Listen…I don’t like him, and probably never will after what happened. But it’s different with you. You two…I don’t know…I always thought you were a thing or whatever.”

She snorts. “Clearly not. Otherwise he wouldn’t have felt the need to prank me.”

“Sam…”

“No, Mike. Don’t you ‘Sam’ me. I’m tired of people coming here and trying to make me talk about Josh, okay? I’m just…tired. I tried to understand his reasoning, I thought of every possible excuse in the world. But guess what? Nothing makes sense. I just don’t get it. I was there for him the whole time. I cried with him because of Hannah and Beth. I went to the graveyard with him every week. And yet it wasn’t enough. If anything, it sounds like everything was a ruse. But the worse thing…oh, the worse thing…is that I miss him. Miss having him around, talking with me. So tell me, Mike—is there anything else you want to talk about?”

By the end of her angry rant, tears are running down her cheeks and fuck, fuck, fuck. He can’t take it. It’s his fault. Everything that happened…it’s his fault. If he weren’t such a jerk and respected Hannah’s feelings, then Sam and Josh’s relationship would still be okay. She’d still have her friend—or whatever he was to her.

It’s wrong and it’s his fault, but he can still offer comfort to Sam. For some reason, she accepts his contact. And so he moves to sit on her bed and gathers her in his arms. She hugs him back, cries on his shirt. For the longest time, he doesn’t even realize he’s crying too. But he is. Crying so much, and for so many things. For Sam, Hannah, Beth, Josh, himself…every one of them.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” he whispers to her, keeps whispering until his voice is hoarse. “I promise it’s going to get better, we’re all going to get better.”

“I want to believe you, Mike. I truly do,” she whispers back, still clutching his shirt with both hands. “But I don’t think…I don’t think I’m ever going to be whole again.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t try, right?” He smiles. “Let me try. I’ll be there for you, Sam. All the time. Until you say the words to send me away.”

“I wouldn’t—”

“Still, just know that you can. But while that doesn’t happen, I’m here.”

“Okay. Okay, we…we can try. We’re a pretty good team, right?” she says with a small smile. Good. Smiling is good.

“Damn right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, please send me good vibes! I'm waiting for my dream literary agents to respond to my original works, and I'm sooo nervous, :X


	4. Loyalty

“Okay, can you stop here?” Sam asks the bus driver once they reach her street. “Thanks.”

Mike’s hand find hers in a split second—but shit, his hands are so sweaty. Though after going to hell and back, he’s a little surprised he still cares if his sweaty hands bother her.

The decision to go back to LA as soon as they both were released from the hospital was one they didn’t need to discuss. Part of him wanted to stay behind until Emily and Chris were released too, but a bigger part wanted to get the hell out of Canada whenever possible. He never wanted to set foot there again. He and Sam would be safe in the States. That is, unless the things wanted them badly enough to take a plane.

He doesn’t even realize he’s shivering until Sam pulls him in a tight hug against her chest, shielding him from the biting cold and his destructive thoughts.

“Shh, shhh…” she whispers. “I’m here, Mike. You’re safe. You’re only going to need to worry about Mom now, okay? I think she’ll try and make you eat way more than necessary. Shhh. That’s all you need to worry.”

He nods, but his body keeps shaking, his fingers keep clutching her hair and damn, _damn!_

He sees Hannah and her milky white eyes everywhere. He closes his eyes and she’s there, snarling and ready to pounce. But when his eyes are open, he sees the miners. Billy Bates. He sees himself being chased, and then the sanatorium is exploding but Billy is still alive and is still chasing him…and then…and then Sam is there, and shit, she cuts Billy’s head with a shovel.

_Alright, Mikey. Chill. You’ve been doing so well at the hospital, you didn’t even think about the things that much. Why start now? They are far away. They can’t hurt or your friends anymore._

“Miss, ya gonna leave or not?” the driver asks, but he can’t focus on him at all.

“Sorry, sorry. We’re going,” Sam answers before snaking her arms around his waist and guiding him out of the bus. Once they are safe on the sidewalk, she puts both hands on his face and touches their foreheads. “Mike, listen to me. We’re not there anymore. You said it to me before, remember? We’re safe. They can’t hurt us anymore. And if they manage to get here, God help me, but they won’t touch us. I won’t let them. Remember—we can kick wendigo butts together.”

He wants to laugh or do anything to show her he’s alright, but fuck. He isn’t. Mike has no idea what triggered it, but he’s not alright.

Sam must sense it, because she hugs his waist again and starts walking as slowly as possible. In a brief moment of wendigo-free thoughts, his heart aches for her. Did she have to do that before, with Josh? Is she used to panic attacks? He doesn’t want to give her any trouble.

“Mom!” Sam yells. What is she talking about? He looks around, and sees what he remembers as her house. They walked so much. Did he space out or what? “Mom, can you open the door?”

Mrs. Giddings’ face appears the next second, and her gasp is enough to make him realize how shitty he must look.

“We need to get him inside, he’s panicking,” Sam explains in a hurry, swallowing some letters. “Mike, move your legs, hon. Just use your legs. You know where they are.”

Legs. Legs, okay. He can move them. He had been moving them before, right? It’s not hard.

Only when he’s sat somewhere fluffy— _couch_ , his mind provides—with something cold in his hands— _glass of water_ —does his mind calm down. It’s an immediate thing, like there’s a switch inside him.

One of Sam’s hand is pulling on her blonde hair while the other is firmly trapped in his left one, the one with missing fingers.

“Sam…I’m sorry…I don’t know what came over me…I don’t know,” he tries to explain, shaking his head all the while. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shhh,” she coos. “It’s alright. Nothing to worry about.”

“I must’ve scared your mom…”

“Like Sam here said, dear, it’s nothing to worry about,” Mrs. Giddings answers. He turns around in a hurry, almost snapping his neck in the process. Sam’s mom is sitting on his other side, her hand massaging his shoulders. Damn. She didn’t change a thing. A few gray hairs here and there, but still. Sam’s a carbon copy of her—only difference is that Mrs. Giddings prefers to keep her hair as short as possible. “I…It’s good to see you again, Michael. I just wish…it was under different circumstances.”

He tries to offer her a smile, but his lips keep shaking. “I’m so sorry…”

“No, honey. Don’t be. I don’t know what happened…but Sammy told me it was traumatic. I won’t pretend I understand, but please…don’t be sorry for anything.”

“I wanted to make a good second first impression…but I guess third time is going to be the charm,” he says after taking a sip from his water. “Thanks for allowing me to stay, Mrs. Giddings.”

“I’m just happy to see you again,” she brushes him off. But Sam chooses that moment to let go of his hand briefly and her mom sees his left hand. “Michael! What…what happened to your—?”

“It’s okay,” he hurries to say. “It’s not hurting anymore.”

“But…but you lost your fingers…”

“Mom, please,” Sam pleads. “It’s not something he wants to talk about.”

Mrs. Giddings nods, and Mike can see how much it costs her to stop looking at his hand and worrying. It’s nice, in a way. To see that she still cares about him enough to worry. But he was telling the truth—it’s not hurting anymore. What _is_ hurting is his damn head.

“I’ll take Mike upstairs, okay?” Sam says, already on her feet and helping him get to his. “After he sleeps, I’ll come back here.”

“I have veggie wraps for you, Sammy…” her mom says with a sad smile. “And I’ll prepare something for when Michael is ready to eat, too.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

He allows Sam to guide him through the house—which, unlike her Mom, is much different than what he remembers. She nudges a door with her feet and they enter the guest room.

“Are you feeling any better?” she asks once they’re sat on the bed.

“I…guess. I’m not sure.” The flashes stopped, at least. That’s more than he could’ve asked for. “But I’ll be okay.”

“You don’t have to try and lie to me, Mike,” she says with a shake of her head. “I understand what you’re feeling. You know I do.”

“I know. I just…I’m sorry.”

“Do you want me to stay here for a while? Mom won’t mind.” She’s already laying on the bed and gesturing for him to get comfortable by her side though.

He can’t help but raise one eyebrow. “She won’t mind _this_?”

“Maybe a little.” Sam giggles. “But she knows you since forever, and knows me enough to be sure nothing’s going to happen.”

“Ouch.”

“Come here, jerk.” She nudges him with her feet, and he lies next to her. Back at the hospital they couldn’t do that, but damn, he wishes that they could’ve. As he snakes his arms around Sam’s shoulders to pull her next to him, a warm sense of peace washes over him. Like the shit they went through never happened. Like their years separated never happened either.

It’s just him and his friend, and it’s nice. It’s safe.

And it makes him decide that, if she allows him, he’s never going to leave her. He’s going to stay by her side the rest of his life, everything and everyone can go fuck themselves.

They’re not out of fear or sadness or even nervousness, but tears leak from his eyes while he hugs Sam. He just…cries. Because he knows she understands.

* * *

 

They start a routine after that. He was supposed to stay with Sam and Mrs. Giddings for only a few weeks, but he stays for four months. Neither Sam nor her mom seem to want to kick him out, and so he keeps staying and staying and staying.

The guest bedroom becomes _his_ bedroom, and Sam sneaks there to hug him and just sleep next to someone who understands every night. He’s pretty sure Mrs. Giddings knows what they’re doing, but thank heavens for her, because she doesn’t say anything. Ever.

The best thing is that whenever he has Sam in his arms—or rather, _she_ has _him_ in her arms—he feels safe enough that the nightmares stay away.

However, as the nightmares leave his mind, the dreams that come back are…not exactly bad, per se, but…uncomfortable.

Yeah, Sam’s his old crush. He’ll always think about her as freaking hot. But she’s more than that, and he doesn’t want her thinking that…well…that it’s all for just good fun. So after one particularly _uncomfortable_ dream, he untangles himself from Sam to just…drink some water and calm down.

It feels so wrong to even think about something such as sex, and he feels dirty that he was thinking about Sam of all the people. In all the months they spent together, she never gave him any indication that their relationship was anything but platonic. And he’s happy with it that way, honestly. But his body has other ideas, and…and they are _wrong_ ideas.

It’s five in the morning—thank God—and so after he leaves the kitchen he moves to the bathroom to do some…Jesus, why can’t he say the words? Why can’t he _think_ the words?

Jacking off.

There. There’re the words. It leaves a sour taste in his mouth, because it’s just like when he was fourteen again and had to hide this sort of thing. But what bothers him the most is that he’s doing it in his friend’s house, thinking about her. Worse, her friggin’ mom is next door.

He tries taking a bath to make himself feel less dirty, but it’s no use. All he can think while showering is about all the times he waited for Sam outside the bathroom, because her trauma still doesn’t allow her to feel safe while taking baths and just generally being naked in a bathroom.

He’s so wrong.

Everything’s so wrong.

After he’s done drying himself and has already fresh clothes on, he makes the mistake of looking at the mirror. Mike would usually wince at the dark bags under his eyes—why didn’t they go away yet? His sleeping cycle is getting better, he swears it is—but not now.

Now there’s another reflection staring at him.

Hannah. Human Hannah, with black glasses and all. Even her necklace with Beth’s picture is there. It’s the first time his mind projected her as a human to him, but shit, shit, shit. This isn’t the time to go crazy.

“What do you want?” he whispers to her, almost hisses. It makes him feel even crazier. “Go away. I don’t like you.”

Shit, is that how Josh felt all the time?

Hannah—no, not Hannah, not Hannah _at all_ —just tilts her head at him, a sour smile tugging at the corners of her lips. He resists looking behind his shoulders as long as he can. Which isn’t long. Not surprisingly, there’s no one but him in the bathroom—but when he looks in the mirror again, Hannah’s still there.

“What do you fucking want from me?” he fires at her again, angrier this time. “Just leave me the fuck alone.”

He’s talking with a mirror. He’s talking with _a mirror_.

_Stop, Mike. Just walk away and she’ll leave you alone._

He’s about to do just that when Hannah’s voice whispers, mere centimeters from his ear, “Why is she enough, when I wasn’t? Why…why do you prefer my best friend?”

He jumps, and looks around once again but no, he’s still alone.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Sam’s my best friend,” Hannah insists, the last two words coming out almost like a curse. “She’s not going to betray me like that. If you want her, I curse you to keep wanting her in silence. Like I wanted you.”

That’s enough to make him run from the bathroom and go hide in the living room. He still has a few hours until everyone wakes up, it’s more than enough time to calm down.

It wasn’t Hannah, not the real one. Not a ghost. He _knows_ that. It was…a projection, something his mind used to show him how wrong wanting Sam this way is. But fuck, it’s still scary.

Any lust he had been feeling before disappears like a puff of smoke, and he’s damn sure it’s going to stay away for a while.

He’s mulling everything and anything when Sam finds him, a few hours later. She has gym clothes on, like she does every morning before going for a run.

“Hey,” she greets carefully, coming to sit next to him on the couch, but still keeping a good distance between them. “You disappeared tonight.”

“Wasn’t feeling okay,” he answers, not managing to look at her in the eye. Shit, he _was jacking off_ while thinking about her—how is it ever going to be possible to look at her in the eye again?

“And…are you feeling better now?”

“Not really.” He shrugs.

Sam nods, and intertwines her fingers nervously. It’s an habit he came to recognize as Sam thinking something really hard—but right now, he’s not sure he wants to know what exactly is going on inside her mind.

Finally, Sam whispers, “You know, if you want to go live somewhere else…it’s okay. I won’t get mad or anything. Mom’ll understand, too.”

“I know,” he answers. His mind clicks. So that’s it. The moment she’ll finally kick him out of her life for being a creepy fuck. He realizes with a start that she probably felt him this morning, and it was the final straw for her. “I…I’ll pack my stuff and leave you alone.”

He’s an idiot. A creep.

And honestly, it’s better now that she’s kicking him out. He’d only drag her down anyway, make her light disappear. Look at everything he’s done—from killing Hannah Washington _twice_ to just…embarrassing Sam like that.

He’s halfway upstairs when Sam sobs and he stops dead on his tracks.

“I…I never thought…I mean, of course I did. But I…I had hoped it would have taken…longer to…to lose you,” she whispers, and he’s not even sure if she’s talking to him or herself.

Mike has no idea what to respond to that. So he just blurts what he can with this confused mind, “What are you talking about? I…I’m doing this for you. You deserve someone better. Hannah was right anyway—if I have to want to you, it’s better to do in silence.”

_Except it’s not in silence anymore, right, you idiot?_

He wants to punch himself in the face for saying that—but it’s too late now.

“Hannah? What are _you_ talking about?”

“It doesn’t matter!” He exclaims, arms raised in frustration. “I…I don’t want to live without you—hell, if it weren’t for you, I probably wouldn’t be alive today—but if…if it’s the best to do…I’ll go…”

She’s still sobbing, and he’s still not moving but still has his back turned to her. Until her sobs start getting closer and closer and she hugs his waist from behind.

“If you go, I won’t be alive ever again,” she whispers and he doesn’t know how to interpret that. She means it literally? But she can’t mean that, can she? She’s too strong for that. “But if you say you don’t want to go…then I don’t understand, Mike. Are you trying to punish yourself? _To punish me?_ If…if that’s it, then help me understand before you go. Tell me what went wrong. I need to understand why is it…that my friends always leave me.”

His heart breaks in two, three, four, five pieces. He doubts he’ll ever be able to properly glue them back together after hearing her say that so brokenly.

“No, Sam. No, no, no. The thing is...hell, Sam. The thing is that I want you. Alright? Not just as my friend. I _want_ you—and shit, you probably know that already. This morning…I’m sorry about that…but I can’t help it…I just want you so, so much. And that’s why I have to leave. I don’t want to force my presence on you. I don’t want to make you uncomfort—”

She twists him around—shit, they’re still in the middle of the stairs—and crushes her lips to his. It’s a bruising, aggressive thing at first. He can barely breathe. Doesn’t close his eyes, and neither does Sam.

But then his body relax when it understands what she’s doing, and his eyelids drop closed. He hopes she does the same, but doesn’t really mind at the moment. He bites on Sam’s lower lip, and she takes the moment to open her mouth and deepen their kiss. It’s fucking hot.

When Sam wraps her legs around his waist, he needs to lean against the wall for support for a moment. Everything that was hard earlier and seemed wrong is hard again and it doesn’t seem all that wrong now.

He maneuvers them on the stairs and enters his bedroom, closing the door behind him. Then he stops the kiss like a bucket of cold water was thrown over his head.

“Wait, Sam, wait,” he whispers, moaning a little when she bites his collarbone. “ _Wait!_ W-we can’t! Your mom!”

“Shh,” she says. “Mom’s dead to the world. She takes pills to sleep. Why do you think she never wakes before eleven? We have plenty of time.”

“Still, I…I don’t have condoms, Sam,” he insists—but she does the same, biting him again. “ _Sa-am!_ ”

“I know you were planning on doing celibate forever, but shut up now, Mike,” she whispers. “I can take a pill later if that’s bothering you so much.”

“Okay, okay,” he moans. “But-but are you sure?”

“Of course I am,” she says before pulling back for a moment. “Unless…I got it all wrong and that’s not what you want?”

This time he doesn’t wait a second before pulling her flush against him once more. “I want this.” Mike kisses the tip of her nose, feeling a little silly and like a virgin teenager again. “But…I want it to be real, you know?”

“Oh, it’s going to be _very_ real,” she says with all of her earlier enthusiasm again. “Trust me.”

“No, I…I want it to mean something, Sam…”

She stops to look at him in the eye, and…for the first time, he’s honestly not afraid of what she might see there.  Whatever she finds, it’s enough for Sam to nod.

“I promise you, it means everything to me.” And with that, she takes off her shirt before doing the same with his. She kisses his chest playfully before whispering, “Just remember to be quiet—we don’t want Mom waking up and finding this.”

* * *

 

The next time he looks at the clock, it’s 10:13 am.

“Are you still going to leave?” Sam whispers against his chest, her breathing tickling him a little.

“Never,” he answers with a sleepy yawn, pulling her closer by the shoulders. “Unless you actually ask me to leave.”

“Never,” she echoes his words before planting a kiss on his neck. He can only imagine what it looks like, considering how sensible the skin is there. Jesus, it really is time to get her a chew toy or something. How they’re going to hide that from Mrs. Giddings, he has no idea.

“So…does this means we’re dating now? I mean, do you want to…uh, be my girlfriend?”

Sam chuckles. “How smooth, Mr. Munroe.”

“I’m being serious.”

“The funny thing is that I know,” she says, sitting down on the bed and grabbing the sheets the cover her breasts. “No, wait. The funny thing actually is to hear this from the great Michael Munroe, resident womanizer.”

“Har, har.” He rolls his eyes. “I’ll let you know that…well, despite the fact that I did have a lot of girlfriends, I don’t sleep around like it seems to be public knowledge.”

“Really?” Sam perks up. “Then what’s my number?”

Mike winces, pulling her on top of him for a kiss before answering. “You’re not a _number_ , Sam. I thought I made it clear that this…this…between us…is special to me.”

“Still, I’m kinda curious.”

“I’m _nineteen_ , Sam. Does it look like I had enough time to charm every girl into my bed?” He insists, not really wanting to talk about this. Can’t she see that this is weird? To talk about other girls after they had sex?

“Awww, c’mon. I’m curious!”

He sighs before muttering, “I don’t know why that’s so important, but I’ve been with three girls.”

“Then I’m the fourth?”

“Three girls—including you, Sam,” he corrects.

“Oh. Okay. I’ve been with only one other guy before.”

_Not that I wanted to know that, Sam._

Plus he’s sure it was Josh.

“Anyway, now that this is apparently out of the way,” he says with another long sigh, “do you want to be my girlfriend?”

Sam taps her chin, pretending to be thinking. It’s enough to drive him up the wall in nervousness though—because holy shit, this _is_ important to him.

He gently pushes Sam off of him, already getting up and trying to spot where his clothes went to. She grabs his wrist to stop him.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Mike,” Sam says and kisses him on the mouth.

“Really?” he whispers, too afraid to speak and his voice break. “You’re not messing with me?”

“Do you peg me for a person who messes with the man that saved her life?”

“No, but…”

She interrupts him by kissing him again, much more deeply this time. “Then shut up. We still have some time, so what do you say…about round two? It’s bound to be more interesting now that you’re my boyfriend.”

He throws the covers around them away—more than ready to comply with _his girlfriend’s_ request.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, no. i can't write smut for the life of me. sorry.


	5. Friendship, Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, yes, a new chapter! Totally new. And fluffy!

It’s not like it’s exactly a secret, but it’s something that he does and doesn’t tell Sam at first.

Like, it’s something important, something that had been nagging him for a while.

He needed a freaking job now.

And it was going to be tough, because Mike still isn’t sure he can spend a lot of time in the outside world. Especially on his own. All that time he spent alone...that shit does something to people’s minds. And even though he’s surrounded by people everywhere he goes—it’s LA, after all—he feels now more alone than ever.

Who can actually understand all the shit that happened before? Who would even believe it? Only Sam and everyone else that was there. But he couldn’t keep talking only with these people. It was...it was already difficult for all of them to cope, he didn’t think they needed him hovering over them all the time.

Especially not Sam, since all he did was stay hidden in her house.

So.

Back to matters at hand.

He needed a job. So he started looking. And he got one. At a pet shop.

It was...cliché, to say the least. But he was okay with it, and that’s the whole point. Seeing new people, seeing pets...that was bound to help him cope. At least, he hoped so.

Now.

There’s this hard part, the one where he needs to tell Sam what he had been doing when he went to walk around.

She’s eating her breakfast, elbows on the table, head down.

Sam keeps her head down a lot now, and Mike doesn’t like it. It’s...it always makes him think that something in her died.

“Hey, good morning,” she greets, interrupting his thoughts. “I didn’t see you leave.”

“Ah, yeah.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Some nights, I don’t know, I just can’t close my eyes. I guess this was one of them. I went for a walk.”

“Did it help?” Sam smiles, almost wistfully then.

“Yeah, it did. And I...uh, I kind of think I’ll need to go out more frequently now.”

She raises one eyebrow.

“I got a job at the pet shop?” He says, asks, whatever.

Mike isn’t even sure why he’s so nervous about telling her this. It doesn’t make sense. It’s not like they’re breaking up, or like he’s doing something awful. It’s just a job. But it does mean he wants to start recovering fully, to start seeing the world again.

And, again, this shouldn’t be a bad thing. Shouldn’t be something to worry about.

This is positively confirmed when Sam opens the hugest smile he’s seen in a while, gets up from the table and proceeds to bear hug him.

(She’s a fan of bear hugs, he’s learning.)

“This is awesome, Mike!” Sam kisses him, quickly, but still kisses him. And she looks really happy with this. She’s not just smiling with her lips, she’s smiling with her eyes too. She looks damn proud. And that sure makes him feel like a peacock. “Congratulations! Oh, this is really great! I’ve been meaning to start looking for something myself, too.”

This makes him feel better about the whole thing, too.

She wants to heal, too.

They’re ready to heal, put the bad stuff behind them.

“Do you have something in mind?” He asks after kissing her pink, smiley lips. This girl. Jesus, this girl. She was going to be the end of him.

Sam takes her time kissing him back before answering.

(Officially dating her is much better than he imagined. It’s so domestic, and it makes him so happy when everything else looks so sad and scary.)

(He loves this girl.)

(He just needs to find the guts to actually tell her that.)

“Ummm,” Sam says, pursing her lips in thought, “Anything that pays is good. Preferentially something that doesn’t involve meat, though.”

Mike rolls his eyes and pecks her on the nose. “Vegan through and through.”

“Should’ve known that before you asked to be my boyfriend, Mr. Munroe.”

“As if you didn’t make sure everyone knew that since kindergarten,” he says. “If I’m not mistaken, there was this rumor about you. Yup, totally was. A bird told the whole school that you ate grass when we were, like, eight. This birdie made sure to say it wasn’t a very gourmet grass, too.”

Sam shoves him in the chest, but it’s still playful.

“Okay, that’s true, but it was only once,” she says with a pout. “People can eat stuff that’s far worse.”

He knows she isn’t thinking about it—because she’s still smiling—but for a terrible second, his brain brings him back to Blackwood, reminds him of the things. They sure ate stuff that was worse than grass.

But when his eyes focus again on Sam, proud and happy, he feels the vicious grip of fear let go of his throat. It’s okay now. They’re okay. The things can’t use a plane to come here. They’re safe.

But, just to make sure it’s really okay, Mike grabs Sam by the arms and hugs her tightly. He needs to make sure she’s still here, that they’re okay.

He can’t think about any of his friends living that nightmare again, but it’s different with her. It’s very different now. Losing her now...losing her like that...

No.

She’s here.

He’s here.

And they’re okay.

Sam must’ve sensed something was off with him, because she snakes her arms around his torso and squeezes him just as tight.

“You make me really happy,” she whispers against his chest. “Did you know that?”

His heart picks up speed again—and he knows she can hear it—but it’s out of love and not fear this time.

“You make me happy, too. So damn much, Giddings.”

* * *

It’s not much later that she manages to find “a job that pays and that doesn’t involve meat.”

Starbucks.

Weeeell, at least it gives him a reason to drink insane amounts of coffee.

(It’s absolutely not an addiction.)

(He’s just not a fan of being tired and sleepy all day, and coffee helps.)

It’s his little routine now. Wake up, kiss Sam, go with her grab some coffee and then go to the pet shop.

It’s a nice routine.

And it works.

Keeps his mind clean, free of nightmares.

But today, just as they’re about to start their day, his phone rings.

He ignores it, but it keeps ringing and ringing.

“Okay, Mr. I Don’t Like Mornings, shouldn’t you just see who wants to talk to you so badly?” Sam teases. “I’ll just get going, see you later. Okay?”

“Sure.” His lips barely manage to touch hers when his stupid phone rings again.

“That’s my cue,” his girlfriend says before disappearing.

When he picks up his phone, Mike is surprised by a relieved, _“Oh, thank God! I’ve been trying to speak to you for days!”_

It’s—

—his mom.

And, okay, he might’ve been ignoring her calls. But he totally didn’t recognize this number now. It’s just...he doesn’t want to go home, go back to his parents. And he knows this is what his mom wants.

He wants to stay with Sam, to keep recovering. Being away from her now...that would ruin everything.

 _“Michael?”_ His mom asks again, and he realizes he still didn’t say anything to greet her.

“Oh, hey, uh, hi, Mom.”

So eloquent.

He’s the master of words.

Total silver-tongued.

(Nope.)

 _“Michael, I’ve been trying to get to you for so long!”_ She repeats. _“Why didn’t you call me back? It’s been weeks already! And all I know about my son are some vague texts and those awful things on the TV!”_

“The TV?”

_“The Blackwood Eight thing they’ve been talking about. Aren’t you watching TV?”_

No.

“Uh, didn’t really feel the need, Mom...” He pauses. “But it’s okay. Whatever they’ve been saying, it’s okay now. I’m okay. Sam is taking care of me, really.”

 _“Sam Giddings! Yes, I forgot you mentioned you were staying with her.”_ She breathes, and she sounds so tired that he feels guilty. _“How is she? Her name was mentioned several times, too.”_

“She’s coping, Mom. We all are. But it’s getting better, and we’re not hurt or anything.”

_“Are you sure? I’ve heard so many things, but none of it makes sense—”_

“Don’t believe everything they say,” he warns. Even if she hears the truth, he’d much rather not have his mom thinking about that. He’d prefer for her to never find out about the truth, really. She was there during Hannah and Beth’s memorial, she saw how they all were...she doesn’t need to know what happened. No one needs to know. It’s too painful, too awful. “The important thing is that we’re okay. I promise. You can...I don’t know, come and visit later. I don’t think Sam and her mom would mind. I don’t know, probably should ask them first.”

She laughs, that motherly chuckle Mike’s sure all mothers have. _“Okay, darling. Okay. Just. Please call me more often? I miss you.”_

“I will,” he promises. “Miss you too.”

And he’s actually surprised that he wants to keep speaking with her more often if she’s okay with him staying here. He’s just so afraid of so many things these days...when his fears prove to be stupid, then he’s happy.

He’s happy here, and he’s okay calling his mom more.


	6. Karma

He’s the happiest guy in the world.

As the weeks go by, he and Sam get even closer and the nightmares stop almost altogether. He buys new condoms. Hannah—or whatever his mind projected as Hannah—doesn’t appear anymore. Emily calls them every once in a while. Chris is able to walk again, and he and Ash are strong and steady. Even Matt—who used to ignore him because they dated the same girl—calls sometimes.

Jess doesn’t say a word—and doesn’t answer his calls, but that’s not a surprise. She probably changed her number. And her parents wouldn’t want him calling anyway.

However, something does bother Mike: he starts to wonder if Mrs. Giddings _really_ doesn’t know about the nature of his and Sam’s relationship. It’s not something he’d usually worry about, but damn, that’s driving him nuts.

“I can hear you thinking,” Sam tells him over breakfast.

“That obvious?” He shrugs. “It’s just…isn’t it weird to…uh…you know, sleep with me…when your mom is so near?”

“I’m a grown woman.”

“I know. But it’s still weird.”

“Well, what do you suggest? Getting our own place?” Sam pauses a second after finishing her sentence. “On a second thought, that sounds like a good idea, you know. With our jobs, we could afford an apartment.”

Mike smiles, nodding. “I’d really, really like that.”

“Then we just need to break the news to mom gent—” She stops when the doorbell rings. “Wait, wasn’t Emily supposed to come over only next week?”

“It’s obviously not Emily, then,” he says with an eyeroll. “Probably just something your mom ordered or whatever. I’ll check it out.”

The doorbell keeps ringing and ringing and damn—his ears hurt.

“Get a grip, man, I’m coming,” he mutters to the door before throwing it open. And then closing it again.

Sam’s behind him in a second. “What happened? Who was it?”

“Uh…you probably don’t want to know.” He scratches the back of his neck.

“What? Why?” She asks, already opening the door. Only to close it as well. “Nope. No, no. There’s no one home.” She turns to her boyfriend and growls, “Don’t you dare open that door, Michael. Or so help me!”

Mike waits until she runs back to the kitchen to open the door again to frown at Josh Washington, who’s starting to look like he wants to be anywhere but here.

“Listen, I didn’t want to tell you that, but coming here was a really bad idea, Josh,” he starts, running both hands through his hair. “You should’ve called first, I could’ve talked with her…”

“But it’s been five months!” Josh exclaims, hands leaving his pockets. “I thought…I don’t know…I thought she would…”

Mike sighs, and goes outside with Josh before making sure the door is securely locked. He gestures for his former friend to sit with him on the stairs of the porch.

“What are you doing here anyway?” Josh asks after a long moment of silence, looking down. “I didn’t think…I mean…it was kind of a surprise to see you opening Sammy’s door.”

“Yeah, about it…” Mike scratches the back of his head again. “Well, I…I’m staying here since…well…that.”

“Oh. Oh…okay. I…are you two…you know…together?”

He winces. How to answer that? How can he even start to answer that to who’s possibly Sam’s ex? What would she do if she had to explain their relationship to Jess? She’d probably be very blunt, but still gentle.

“We’re friends,” he starts. “We got very close during that night…and our bond only became stronger after we survived. But we…yeah. We’re together now.”

Josh is the one to wince this time. “I…see. You’re treating her right?”

_Better than you did anyway._

“Yeah, I’m doing my best. Sam…she’s really special to me. And she makes me happy. I…if I’m being very honest with you, Josh, I never thought I’d be happy again after that night. But she proved me wrong.”

“I…I’m sorry about everything I did to you, Mike. Both of you,” Josh says, deflated. “I do want you to be happy. I just…I thought I could speak with Sam, you know? Finally. I thought she’d be okay with speaking with me.”

While he might not like Josh very much, Mike feels for him—honestly. He knows what it’s like to feel guilty, because he thinks about Hannah a lot. And Josh was his friend once—one of his best friends—so it’s not like he has it in him to just leave the man there, alone.

So he says what he might come to regret later, “You wait here. Okay? I’ll go back inside and speak with Sam. She’ll probably kick me in the teeth, but I’ll try and see if she speaks to you.”

“Are you serious?” Josh looks up, a bright smile on his face. “Thanks, man. I really mean it. If she wants to kick somebody, you can tell her I’m available. Karma’s a bitch, after all.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Once he’s back inside the house, Mike finds Sam leaning against the kitchen door. Her eyes are red and blotchy and sad.

“Did he go away?” she whispers. “My life was supposed to be happy now, Mike. Why can’t it…why can’t it ever be happy for enough time?”

He pulls Sam to his chest in an instant. “Sam, love…our life _is_ happy. Never think that it isn’t. Okay?”

“But I want him to go away! He makes me…remember everything. I don’t want to remember—never again.”

“He just wants to talk,” Mike says against her hair. “And if you want, I can be there the whole time. I can even punch him for you.”

She chuckles. “It’s just…it wasn’t hurting. When we’re together, everything is just so nice and perfect. And now…my head and my heart are hurting. It’s his fault. And the worse thing is that I still miss having him around. What is even wrong with me, Mike? What?”

His heart aches so much for her. His perfect Sam. His freaking girlfriend.

“Do you want me to send him away?”

“So that means he’s still here.” Sam sighs. “I don’t know. I don’t want to talk with him…but at the same time, I do. What would you do if…if it was Jess, showing up here?”

“I’d be overwhelmed to see someone from that night. Someone I haven’t seen in a while,” he tries to explain. “But I guess I’d try and talk with her.”

“So you’re telling me I should talk with Josh like a civilized person.”

“Basically. But only if you want.”

“Okay, you win. I’ll go. But only for two minutes. Two minutes, and then the door will be slammed on his face.”

“Sounds fair enough to me,” he says with a grin.

When the two of them reach the front door, Sam laces her fingers with his—and Mike’s heart swells with what he can only say is love.

“Whatever happens, I’m here,” he whispers in her ear. “I won’t ever leave you.”

“Thanks,” she says. “Let’s do this. I can do this. I can, right?”

“Of course you can. You’re Sam, the bravest and strongest person I know.”

She smiles at him before opening the door. As soon as she does and comes face to face with Josh, though, her smile drops.

“Hi, Sam…” Josh tries, offering her his hand before thinking better of it. “I…Thanks, Mike. Can we…Sam…can we talk?”

“You have two minutes,” she says with a hard glare, her fingers squeezing Mike’s almost painfully. “Then we’re done. As in, forever.”

“Okay, okay. I deserve this. I—”

“You deserve this? You deserve this!” She explodes, letting go of Mike’s hand to push Josh on the chest roughly. “You deserve so much more for everything you fucking did to us! Did you even…for one second…did you even think about what you were doing?”

Josh’s mouth hangs open for the longest time, until he seems to remember Sam said he only had two minutes to speak with her. “I’m sorry, okay? I am. I’ve been trying to tell everyone how sorry I am, and…and I needed to apologize to you. What I did…I don’t know, Sam. It was insane. I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking. I told Mike this before, and…and I swear to God, Sam, I didn’t know about the monsters. I had no idea. I don’t know how I never knew about them, but it’s true. That…that wasn’t planned at all.”

Sam starts crying, and Josh starts crying and—no, no. Mike doesn’t start crying because none of that has anything to do with him.

“Do you want me to wait in the kitchen?” he whispers to Sam and she shakes her head vehemently.

“I know that wasn’t planned,” Sam starts, running the back of her hands over her eyes. “But Josh, everything else…fuck. I saw your plans, Josh. The blueprints of that machine. I saw your phone, goddammit! The texts from whoever Alan Hill is. You wanted to hurt us. And I…I don’t get it. I just don’t.”

Josh sobs harder. “I…I…I didn’t want to hurt you, Sammy. You and Chris. I n-never wanted you two to get h-h-hurt. But… _I_ needed to suffer, Sammy. I had to suffer for not…being there to help m-my sisters… The only…only way for m-m-me to suffer even more…was-was to see you and-and Chris h-hurt. I-I’m sorry.”

The gasp that escapes Mike’s mouth is pretty much inaudible in the middle of all the sobbing, but fuck, fuck, fuck. He always thought he was a messed up bastard, but that…that takes the cake. He has no words. None.

Though Sam seems to think differently, because she doubles over and drops to her knees. He grabs her shoulders to keep her from getting hurt, and kisses Sam’s head over and over. Josh seems to want to kneel as well, but doesn’t.

“Shh, shhhh,” he whispers to Sam. “I’m here, Sam. It’s okay, it’s okay.”

“Josh,” Sam says after taking deep breaths. “I…I forgave you the minute I learned you were alive. But I can’t…I _can’t_ forget. What you did to us… _to me._ I can’t ever forget about that. Do you have any idea…how many of my nightmares are about the Psycho and not the wendigos?”

“I’m so sorry, Sammy…I…I never—”

“It doesn’t matter if you wanted it to happen or not,” she cuts him off, putting herself to her feet with Mike’s help. “I wanted to know why, and I thank you for telling me this. But…like I told you, I forgave you. If that’s what you came after, you have it. But I won’t forget what happened.”

“I get it, I get it,” Josh whispers with a nod, trying to reach out for Sam’s hand. She lets him touch his fingers to hers for less than a second before hiding her hand behind her back. “I just…wanted you to know that I really am sorry. And I…I miss you, Sam. Miss the way we were. But we can’t get back to that, can we?”

Mike has to bite his lips to keep himself from snorting—is Josh actively trying to get hit in the face?

“I’m sorry, Josh,” Sam says. “I wish we could, but…not today. Not tomorrow. But maybe in a few years, I don’t know…”

“Okay.” Josh nods. “That’s…that’s all I ask. I…I’ll go now, okay? If…if you ever feel like speaking with me…well…my number’s still the same.” He starts walking away, but looks over his shoulders to add, “You take good care of Sammy, right, Mike?”

“Always,” Mike whispers, his hand trapped in Sam’s. With each passing second, her grip becomes even tighter. Until Josh disappears down the street, and Sam falls to her knees once again, crying. He keeps running his hand up and down her back, up and down. “Breathe, love. You can do it. You’re amazing, you know? I don’t think I’d forgive him if I were you. You’re amazing.”

Sam nods, and allows him to pull her up and guide her to their couch.

“It hurts,” she whispers after a moment, hugging her knees to her chest. “It hurts so much, Mike. We were supposed to be happy.”

“I…” he shakes his head, not really knowing what to tell her. “I’m here, okay?”

“I know,” Sam whispers. “Thank you.”

“We’re going to get through everything,” he promises. “And at the end of the day, we’re going to be happy for a long time.”

* * *

 

When his phone rings—a shrill, annoying noise—the first thing that comes to mind is that he needs to change the tune. Sam cried herself to sleep—in the middle of the morning, much to Mrs. Giddings surprise—and he doesn’t want her waking up yet. She needs to rest to heal.

Mike hits _answer_ without thinking about it, just wanting the damn thing to shut up.

“Hello?”

“ _Hey, Mike…uh, hi…_ ” comes from the other side of the line and he almost drops the phone. Jess. “ _I’m sorry to call so randomly…I just…my parents finally allowed me to have a phone again—after all, we did lose that one in the cabin—so…I thought…I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t have called?_ ”

“No, no. It’s…it’s okay. I’m just surprised to hear from you,” he breathes out. Fuck. What the fuck is even wrong with the world that everyone shows up out of the blue? “I tried to call you before, but…never…you know. Anyway. How…how have you been, Jess?”

There’s a long pause—and if it weren’t for Jess’ uneven breathing, he’d have thought she hung up.

“ _I’m coping,_ ” she answers after a while. “ _Actually happier, you know? Things aren’t easy, but I’m able to sleep through the night again._ ”

Mike smiles, nodding even though Jess can’t see it. It’s a real progress, and he’s honestly happy for her. He and Sam still need to take pills to sleep sometimes—though the doctors they saw say it’s best not to overuse them.

“I’m glad to hear this,” he tells her. “I do want you to be happy, Jess. With or without us near you. And if…whatever you’re doing is helping…then it’s all that matters to me.”

“ _Yeah. Yeah, it is. Thanks._ ” She pauses again. “ _So, uh…have you heard anything about the others? Are they okay? The news never mentioned anything, so I’m guessing there was some cover up or whatever. But that also means I don’t know how everyone is…_ ”

“I…well, I speak with others sometimes. Matt and Emily are great, I even hang out with them sometimes. Ashley and Chris…well…they’re trying to move on with their lives, you know? They’re still together, but I don’t see them that much.”

“ _That’s great, Mike!_ ” He can almost see Jess beaming, and it’s enough for his smile to stretch out a little more. “ _What about Sam? Are you still speaking with her?_ ”

That’s a tricky thing to answer. Jess was always…a little…well, she liked to hover over him. A lot. Even when he was still with Em and the two girls were best friends. But after that night, she could have changed. And moved on from him.

“I…Sam and I…we—”

Jess interrupts him before he can articulate his thoughts. “ _Oh my God!_ ” she exclaims. “ _Really? Are you two a thing now? How did this happen? Oh my God! I thought you hated each other?_ ”

Well, at least that answers if she moved on.

“I…yeah. It’s hard to explain, but I’m living with her now. It was supposed to be a temporary thing, but I…I don’t know…and getting together just sort of happened…”

“ _That’s a good thing, Mike. It means you’re both healing, moving on with your lives. It’s good. I’m happy to hear that,_ ” her voice is so soft, and she sounds honestly happy for them. Mike can’t help but like Jess a bit more now. Maybe, if one day she’s willing to see them all again, they could be friends. “ _Can I…well, can I speak with her, too? I wanted…you now…to say hello to everyone…apologize for disappearing like that. And for everything I’m sure my parents said to you guys._ ”

“Ah…about that…” he scratches the back of his head. “She’s sleeping now. Today was…a little hard on her. But I’ll tell her to call you back, if that’s okay?”

The sadness from seeing Sam hurting must’ve been evident to Jess, because her voice softens even more, “ _Of course that’s okay. But…if you don’t mind me being my nosy self, what happened? I thought you said she was alright?_ ”

“She is,” Mike hurries to say, mostly because he doesn’t want to worry Mrs. Giddings in case she can hear him speaking. “It’s just…Josh showed up here today. He wanted to speak with Sam, tried to apologize. She’s…shaken up. It had been a while since something or someone made her remember that night again, you know?”

“ _Oh. Oh, I…I’m sorry._ ”

“Yeah, me too,” he says with a sad sigh. “Listen, can I call you later?”

“ _Sure,_ ” Jess says immediately. “ _Just send me a text before, in case my parents are near and all of that._ ”

“Okay, I will. Bye, Jess. Take care.”

“ _You too, Mike._ ”

When he hangs up, he runs upstairs to see if Sam’s okay. The last time he checked on her was an hour ago. And fuck, talking about her with someone else…had hurt. Especially because it made him realize that he shouldn’t have left her alone. He should’ve stayed by her side, holding her like a good boyfriend.

But she already knows he’s not good.

He opens the door to Sam’s bedroom as gently and quietly as possible, peeking inside first. She’s rolled on her side, hugging a pillow and muttering in her sleep.

“I’m…I’m sorry…I’m so sorry, Hannah…” Sam keeps saying, and his heart clenches. “I’m so, so sorry…”

Mike never brought it up, but Sam took away every picture of Hannah and Beth that she had the second week after returning from their nightmare. Even some knick knacks disappeared, and he could only assume they reminded Sam of the twins.

Sighing once again, he sits at the end of Sam’s bed and runs his hand on her feet, trying to at least find a way to reassure her while she sleeps. Anything to ease her nightmares.

She goes quiet after a few minutes, and he takes the time to bend down and kiss her mass of blond hair.


	7. Repentance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yaaaaaas! another completely new chapter! what can I say, The Inpatient inspired me to come back here for this story ;)
> 
> (yeah, I know this is short, but that's it for now haha)

When he’s on his way to the pet shop, a cup of delicious, hot coffee in his hand (with “Jerk of My Life” scrawled on it with Sam’s calligraphy), Mike isn’t exactly expecting to be surprised.

Life has been so calm lately, he’s getting used at _not_ being surprised by shit.

Unfortunately for him, his ordinary day is cut short when Mike runs into Josh. Damn, last time he saw the man...was that day on Sam’s porch.

“Oh, hi,” Josh greets, barely looking at him in the eye. Much like what happened with Sam, Mike can see how dead Josh is now. The prankster (the good prankster, he means, not the shitty one) is gone. The playful, silly and bordering stupid dude is gone. This is just a shell.

He sees it now. So simple, so easy.

He sees what Josh tried to hide during that year between Hannah and Beth’s disappearance and That Night. All the sadness, the sorrow, the depression.

It’s all there for anyone to see.

And he feels bad. So bad. Because no matter how depressed he feels, it’ll never be compared to what Josh is feeling. Never. The dude lost everything that was important to him.

Maybe this is why Mike suddenly grabs Josh by the shoulders and gives him a hug. Maybe it’s just because he misses his friend. Maybe there’s no reason at all.

But, in the end, this seems to be the right move because Josh hugs him back—and he’s almost sure he hears his former friend sniffing.

“Hey, man,” Mike says after the hug ends awkwardly. “How are you?”

“Alive,” Josh answers, looking down. “That seems to be quite the feat, I’m told.”

“I’m sorry,” Mike says. “For everything. I...hope things can be better one day. For all of us. Being alive shouldn’t be ‘a feat.’ I...hope we can all be happy. One day.”

Josh snorts—and Mike totally understands why.

“Yeah, okay.” Josh’s eyes shift a little. “Jerk of my life?”

“Weird sense of humor,” he says, forcing a laugh. This all feels terribly awkward now. “At least this isn’t the worst thing she could’ve written here.”

“You and Sam still strong?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm. Good. I...really want for you both to be happy. If someone can do that, it’s you.”

Mike shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Have you been seeing the others?”

“Nah, just spoke with Jess online a few times.” This makes Mike’s eyebrows shot up. And Josh realizes it, and hurries to add, “It’s nothing, really. We just talk some shit to see if real-life shit feels less shitty.”

“Hey, you don’t have to explain anything to me,” Mike says, smiling. “It’s good that you’re both opening up to someone. It helps. Helped me, at least.”

“I wouldn’t go as far away and say that, but whatever. It does help.” Josh bites his lower lip. “So. I guess I’ll just get going now. Nice seeing you, Munroe.”

It’s only two hours later that Mike realizes Josh didn’t ask for him to tell Sam he said hello or anything of the sort.

For some reason, this makes him sad—he wants so badly for their group to be together again one day.

* * *

 

The next time he sees Josh, it’s a few weeks later.

(His cup doesn’t have “Jerk of My Life” on it this time, fortunately. That would make stuff a lot weirder than necessary.)

Well, _he_ sees Josh. _Josh_ , on the other hand, doesn’t see him—or, perhaps, ignores him. Whatever the case, he walks to his friend and nudges him with his shoulder.

“Hey, man,” he greets. “Everything okay?”

“Uh?” Josh shakes his head and then finally focuses on Mike. “Oh. Hi. Yeah, everything okay. What are you doing here?”

Mike gestures around, eyebrows high.

“It’s a public street—right?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Clutching his cup of coffee more tightly in one hand, Mike uses the other—the one with the missing fingers, the one that still haunts him whenever he looks down at it—to nudge Josh towards a park bench.

When they’re seating, he hesitates. What the fuck is he even doing anyway? He and Josh were never exactly close friends. Plus all the history with Hannah...

But it doesn’t matter now, he realizes. After all the terror they went through That Night, they’re the same. All of them. They are the only people in the world who can understand each other.

“Josh,” he starts, looking down at his cup the whole time. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

His friend frowns and then taps his forehead—the same way he did before. “My head likes to mess with me sometimes,” Josh says as an explanation. “I guess I...I guess I miss my sisters.”

Mike feels punched in the gut—more so because Josh isn’t even blaming him. There’s not a hint of blame or anger in his voice. Nothing. There’s just sadness.

“Man, I’m sorry, so sorry,” he says, because it’s the only thing he can think about. “I never...things never should’ve happened like that.”

Josh doesn’t seem to be listening to him, though. “You asked once why I did what I did. I told you that I did it because I felt the need to be punished, but...there’s something else. I didn’t realize it at first, and I guess you could say it’s just me being crazy—”

“Josh, that stuff we saw proves that nothing is really crazy,” he interrupts. “I mean, there are some really crazy people out there. But when it comes down to that mountain...”

“Anyway, I had these dreams. Very real. Very nasty. They happened only when I was on that mountain, never here. And...I don’t know, my sisters were always there, saying some stuff. I couldn’t understand them sometimes, it was like they were talking in a different language. But they wanted me to follow them, do some stuff—but I never did. I don’t know why. It didn’t feel right. So I started...thinking about the prank.” Josh pauses to stare Mike right in the eyes. “You think this makes me crazy? Did I imagine all of that?”

He doesn’t know.

He honestly doesn’t know.

Josh’s head is so different, he doesn’t know if he can understand it. But he knows there’s something evil in that mountain, something that possibly goes beyond the monsters.

“I don’t know,” he finally says. “But I’ll believe you if you tell me you believe it. Okay?”

A smile takes over all of Josh’s face. “Thanks. This means a lot to me.”

Mike smiles as well, happy that at least they can manage to keep up a good conversation.

“So, you still talking with Jess?” He asks when it seems like Josh doesn’t have anything else to add.

“Yeah, I am,” he says. “I like her more now. She...gets it, I think. She can understand the stuff I think when I can’t understand it.”

“That’s good.” He smiles. “Is she alright? Like, recovering?”

“Kind of.” Josh shrugs. “She says she still can’t sleep through the night, but that’s okay. Neither can I.”

That’s something Mike can’t say—sometimes, he still can’t sleep. But now that he feels safe with Sam and everything else, he’s managing to sleep through the night more and more.

“Do you really think that one day we’ll all be alright again?” Josh asks, eyes completely open and honest and hopeful.

Mike wants to lie at first, say anything that’ll keep his friend from flipping again. But if he lied and things took a turn for the worse...

“I hope so,” he says, frowning. “I mean, things won’t ever be the way they were. 2013 is never coming back. But I think it’s okay if we can find another way to be happy. At least we all have each other, right?”

Josh shrugs. “I don’t think I can be happy again. Not really. Not without my sisters. But I think I can be alright if I try hard enough.”

“That’s good, right?”

“I guess. I just...I wish I knew what they went through that day. I can imagine. After seeing the...the things, I can imagine what happened to them. But if I could find a way to be sure—”

Mike almost chokes. “Wouldn’t you rather think about your good memories with them? Like, it doesn’t matter what happened at the very end. Thinking about it won’t do you any good.”

“There’s no point, not really. They’re dead now.”

He really wishes he could say something that would make it better. Something to soothe the pain—because Jesus, he feels this pain too. He feels it all the time.

“I’m here, man,” he says instead. “If you need a friendly face, I’m here. And guess what, I’m just as messed up as you are.”

Josh laughs. Really laughs, that 2013 laugh. “Funny, never thought I’d hear that.”

They both laugh together for a moment. “Do me a favor, though?” Mike asks. “Please try to be happy. If talking with Jess is helping, then go all in. Make this your most important medicine, you know?”

“Is that what you and Sam did?”

Mike frowns, thinking about it. Sam is his most important medicine. Her love is—even though none of them ever used the “l-word.” Her support, her kindness, her presence, that’s what keeps him going.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.” He smiles. “It’s more than that, too. She...she’s the reason I wake up every day. The reason that no matter how bad the nightmares get, I’m still willing to keep going. It’s all for her.”

Josh nods. “I really hope one day I can feel something like this.” Then he gets up and punches Mike’s shoulder lightly. “So, I’ll get going now. See you. Oh, and tell Sammy I said hi!”

This time, Mike laughs to himself when he’s left alone.

Maybe there is a chance for their group to be whole again.


	8. Jealously

Two months later, they are living in their own apartment.

And the best thing about it? Mike can wander around naked all that he wants. It’s such a…freeing experience. He loves every second of it.

Sam pinches his ass, making him jump out of his thoughts. “Damn, Sam. If you wanted to touch it so badly, you could’ve asked,” he says with a wink.

She shakes her head. “Not that I mind, but are you sure you need to walk around like this every day?”

“Hey, there’s nothing stopping you from joining the club.” He chuckles, grabbing Sam by the hand and twirling her around—making her laugh with him, eyes alight with happiness. Fuck, he didn’t say the words yet…but he loves her. Truly, truly loves her. When their pseudo-dance ends, he pulls Sam flush against his body and leans his head over hers. “I’m so, so happy. Did you know that?”

She looks down at his waist and back to his face. “Well, I can see how happy you are.”

“That’s cheating, you know. I can never see if you’re this kind of happy like you can with me.” He kisses her hair, the seriousness returning to his face. “But honestly, Sam. You make me happy. I…I can’t even explain it.”

“Aww, Munroe. You’re becoming such a softie,” she says playfully, kissing his jaw. “I’m happy, too. Our life is…very good. I never thought…I mean, after that night…I didn’t think I had it in myself to be happy again. But you proved me wrong.”

He can’t help it—he twirls her around once more, humming a song that doesn’t really exist. She said the exact same thing he said to Josh before. Sam smiles at him— _such a bright smile!_ —and starts taking off her own clothes, too. Soon they’re both naked and dancing, making themselves look like fools.

Well, Mike has never been happier to act like a fool. He’s in love. He’s entitled to be foolish.

“Do you think we already tried that counter, right there?” he nudges his head towards a corner of their living room, where Sam likes to keep her fitness magazines.

She giggles. “I’m not sure—but it couldn’t hurt to give it a go, right?”

He’s already peppering her neck with kisses and bites—and she’s happy to return the favor, biting all over his chest—when the someone starts knocking on the door almost crazily. He goes rigid, frozen in the spot.

Sam, on the other hand, keeps her ministrations. “Ignore it,” she whispers against his skin, making a delightful shiver run all over his body. “Whoever it is will go away after a while.”

He tries to protest, but she keeps hitting all the right spots, and he honestly sees stars behind his eyelids for a second. But the knocks don’t stop, and he has to pull Sam away for his brain to start working again.

“Sam,” he whispers. “Sam, I’m serious. I…I can’t do that if there’s someone hearing us.”

“If you stop us to open that door,” she starts, hand flying to her hips in a bossy way, “then I’m not going to finish anything once the door is closed and whoever is out there is gone.”

“But Sam—”

“Nope.” A mischievous grin spreads across her face. “Unless, of course, you can go through with a dare.”

“Right?”

“You’ll go there, exactly like you are now, and open the door.”

“But I’m naked!”

“Take it or leave it,” Sam says with a shrug. Jesus, she became such a…he doesn’t even know the word. But damn, Sam’s very different than what he had in mind. Not that he’s complaining. When he nods and kisses the tip of her nose, she beams. “Let’s see the show, then!”

Mike takes deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart. He’s more than a little embarrassed to be doing this, but hell, he’s also really turned on. Opening that door…is bound to be interesting. He just hopes it’s not their landlord on the other side. That wouldn’t be interesting. At all. That would mean getting another apartment—in another country, preferably.

But the thoughts fly from his head when he opens the front door and Chris barges in.

“Guys, guys! I-I-I need your help!” he pants, shoulders hitting every piece of furniture he can. Then his eyes take in Mike’s lack of clothes and he gasps, hands flying to cover his entire face. “Gah! GAH! Cannot…unsee!”

Sam throws him a pillow that was lying on the couch, and runs to the bedroom to get dressed again.

“Okay, you can look now,” Mike says when the pillow is secure in front of things Chris shouldn’t see.

Chris removes his hands slowly, then opens his eyes before exclaiming again, “GAH! No, I definitely can’t look now! Just…just…go away, get decent, and then come back. It really _is_ urgent. As in _Blackwood-Mountains_ -kind-of-urgent!”

Sam materializes in front of them the next second. She’s already dressed, much to Mike’s surprise. He grabs a pair of sweatpants that’re lying on the floor and puts them on. “Wait, what? Blackwood? What are you talking about?”

Shaking his head, Chris grabs both of her forearms. Things that shouldn’t be seen completely forgotten. “I…I…Ash…I told her that thing you said at the police station, Mike. About…the wendigo…and Hannah…”

“Oh, shit,” Mike says with a long sigh. “I thought you were the one who didn’t want to spread the news?”

“Well, yeah. But I don’t know. It was Ash. I don’t know. I thought it was okay to explain things to her.”

“Okay, we get it,” Sam says, her face reddening and her breathing picking up. “You can’t keep stuff from Ash because you love her, yadda, yadda. But what’s the emergency?”

“I…Ash and I…well, the thing is, Ash didn’t forgive Josh yet. I thought it’d be okay to try and make them talk over dinner. You know? Like we used to. But…it obviously was a real bad idea…the two of them…they had this screaming match…”

_Shit._

_Shit, shit, shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck._

Mike’s mind keeps chanting curses in hushed tones, because he can see where Chris’ idea got him.

“And?” Sam insists, face even redder. “What happened after that, Chris?”

“Shit, I…I’m sorry, guys…I didn’t mean for that to happen, and I know you two…but…Ash told Josh… _everything_.”

Well, shit.

Sam’s hands go to Chris’ wrists, mimicking his earlier gesture. “And after that? What did Josh say?”

“Nothing, he said nothing,” Chris says. “But now…when I tried to call him…he picked up the phone and told me he was going to get whatever he could that belonged to the twins. Josh’s going back to Blackwood, Sam.”

It’s not exactly what Mike’s expecting—not even close to what he’d ever expect—but Sam faints after hearing that. Just…faints. He catches her before she can hit the floor though, and lifts her up bridal style.

“Holy shit!” Chris exclaims. “Is she okay?”

“I don’t know!” Mike says, shaking his head before gently putting Sam on their couch. He pats her cheeks, kisses her forehead, and runs his hands over her hair. “Sam, love. Wake up. Please, wake up. Please?”

“Shit, man. I didn’t think she would—”

“Shut up, Chris. I need to think!”

He racks his brain, trying to find some good info on how to wake people who fainted. The only thing that comes to mind—besides waiting for the person to wake up on their own—is put something smelly under Sam’s nose.

But what?

Fuck! Fuck, _yes!_

They have ammonia somewhere in the bathroom. That’s one thing he’s almost sure could work.

“Wait here, okay?” he tells Chris, hoping his voice doesn’t waver and shake as much as his hands are. “Hold her hand, talk with her. Whatever. Just. Stay here!”

Mike runs to the bathroom at the end of the corridor, kicking the door open. He goes through the cupboards— _fuck, how hard could it be to find something here?_ —until he slips on the wet tiles.

“Fuck!” Sam must’ve taken a shower earlier. He rubs his back before his eyes fall on something inside the last cupboard he opened. There! There the damn thing is. Not wasting any time, he runs back to the living room.

Mike drops to his knees near Sam and puts the ammonia close to her nose. She groans, turns, and mutters, “What…the hell?”

“Welcome back, Sam,” he whispers, running his fingers over her blonde fringe. “Are you feeling…alright?”

“Not sure,” she answers with another groan. When she tries to sit up, he helps her, guiding her by the elbow gently. “Hey, I’m not a doll. There’s no need to treat me like I’m made of glass.” Her eyes roam around the room until they find Chris and she groans, alert once again. “Chris. We need to do something. Do you think he already took a plane or something?”

“Sam, take it easy…” Mike tries, but she brushes him off.

“No, Mike. I’m fine.” She turns to the other man in the room and scowls. “Answer me already, Chris! Did Josh take a plane or not?”

“I don’t know,” Chris breathes out. “I…I think he did. But I can’t be sure. And I don’t want to force you guys to come back with me…but Josh…I mean…man. I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, it’s obvious!” Sam exclaims. “We’re going to Blackwood, too.”

“Sam, listen to me. I can go with Chris and drag Josh’s stupid ass back here. You…I don’t know, Sam. I…”

“If you start blurting out some macho bullshit, I’m going to hit you,” she huffs. “You know I can handle myself there. Plus I can have your back, Mike. We work well together.”

“But I don’t want to have to worry about you…the last time we were there…you weren’t my girlfriend, Sam. I…I didn’t…”

“Michael, I _am_ going to hit you.”

“Guys—” Chris tries to interrupt, but a glare from both Mike and Sam shushes him. “Okay, then.”

“No, Sam. You listen here. I…I didn’t…I didn’t love you before. Now I do. And I…I would never forgive myself if something happened…especially if it was because I couldn’t help, couldn’t be there…”

He cuts himself off as a sob wracks his throat. Shaking his head, Mike drops to the couch. “I do love you, Sam. I can’t…I can’t lose you.”

“I’ll just go wait outside,” Chris mutters, but no one pays him any mind.

“Mike…” Sam whispers, sitting next to him to pull him towards her chest. He can’t be sure, but it sounds like she’s crying softly, too. “Mike, I love you too. Okay? I love you. And that’s exactly why I need to go. How do you think I’d be able to sleep, to carry on with my life while you’re up on that mountain again? Without me there, to help you if you need? I can’t let you go alone.” She keeps kissing his naked chest, but he’s afraid his racing heart is going to scare her off any moment. “That mountain already took my friends from me. Do you think I’d be able to go on if it took someone else I love?”

“But what about the woman _I_ love?” he whispers back.

“She wants to have your back, you dip. And she trusts you to have hers. Yeah, you’re right that we didn’t love each other before. But don’t you think that now that we do, we’re going to pay even more attention to each other? If we can sacrifice everything for each other when there’s no love involved, now we’re only going to be stronger. Believe me, Mike.”

He nods, crying still. “I won’t let anything hurt you, Sam. I won’t. I’ll die first.”

“No,” she hisses. “There’ll be no dying involved.”

His hands snake themselves at her waist, under her shirt, desperate to just feel her skin against his. She’s here. She’s with him. She’s going to be alright, and they’re going to keep living their happy life.

“Can we go talk with Chris again?” she whispers against his hair, her own hands grabbing his face and neck.

“Yeah…yeah…”

When Chris is back in their living room, red in the face and looking at anywhere but them, Sam pulls herself together. “So, Chris,” she says, “if we’re going there, we need some weapons. And fast.”

He waves her off, desperately trying not to make eye contact. “No need. I…I, uh, spoke with some people. About a monster hunt charity thing.”

“Monster hunt charity?” Sam repeats. “ _What?_ ”

“It doesn’t matter. What does is that I have some money to buy shotguns and maybe a flamethrower. It’s enough, right? How many more of the fuckers can be around the mountain anyway? And, uh, I don’t think it’ll be a problem to buy guns in Calgary, right? I mean, we couldn’t take a plane with guns, so...Ugh. Anyway. Are we doing this?”

“Let’s do this,” Mike announces, finally getting up from the couch. He runs both of his hands over his hair—surprisingly, just the mention of Blackwood is enough for his amputated fingers to start throbbing again. “Before Josh can do even more stupid shit and get himself killed.”

Sam grabs his bad hand and squeezes—because like he once said, _she knows everything that’s going on with his head._

* * *

 

They arrive in Calgary a few hours later, after miraculously finding a plane. The bus ride to Blackwood after that is silent, and Mike shakes the entire time. He pretends it’s because of the cold—even says that to Sam when she asks if he’s okay.

“Mike, you need to breathe,” she instructs him once the bus stops and they set feet on the snow. “In and out. In and out. Come on, mimick my chest. Breathe. Okay?”

He nods, doing his best to calm the fuck down.

“I’m okay,” he says after a few minutes. “I’m okay.”

Chris waits for the bus to disappear before opening his bag and taking out the weapons. “What do you guys want? I’ll keep a shotgun.”

“Give me the other one,” Mike asks. “Sam, you okay with the flamethrower?”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s fine.”

Despite the blinding sun—it’s only a few minutes past one—Blackwood still is the scariest place Mike’s ever been. Every little sound, every little twig they accidentally snap when stepping on them is enough for him to jump and pull Sam against his chest.

The scariest thing to him, though, is the complete lack of wildlife. Nothing. No wolves howling, no deer or elk roaming around, no birds chirping. It’s like the wendigos already managed to eat everything, destroy every bit of life in this mountain.

Mike’s heart breaks when his mind projects the image of Wolfie. Poor, poor buddy. He just hopes…whatever happened to his little friend…he just hopes it was quick. Wolfie was a good friend, a good wolf, and he didn’t deserve to suffer.

He should’ve come here earlier, should’ve been brave enough to come back to get Wolfie. He could live with him and Sam, right? But no. He was a coward, and left Wolfie to die.

As if reading his thoughts, Sam’s hand fly to his. “We’ll get out of here before it’s dark,” she whispers.

“I know.”

“Then what’s bothering you?”

He’s about to answer that he misses Wolfie, wishes he could’ve given the wolf a better life, when a scream echoes through the woods.

“Josh!” Chris exclaims, shotgun at ready as he starts to run. Bolts toward the scream. “Josh!”

Sam follows him, dragging Mike behind her since their hands are still laced.

It’s awful, like being back to that night, when he and Jess were running from Hannah. After she dragged that deer away, probably to tear it to pieces.

But once they find where the screams are coming from—the remains of the burnt Washington Lodge—Mike stops thinking completely. He drops the shotgun, and falls to his knees.

“Wolfie?” he calls, mouth hanging open. “Wolfie!”

The gray wolf is barking at the door of the Lodge, hissing and growling and everything. When Mike squints—the sun _is_ blinding when it reflects on the snow—he sees Josh, huddled up in a corner, shaking from head to toe and brandishing a twig to keep Wolfie away.

“Wolfie!” he calls again, whistling this time for good measure. The wolf’s tail twitches, and he marches away from Josh, searching for whoever called him. When Wolfie finds Mike, he tackles him to the ground, licking his entire face. “Ow, ow, ow! Wolfie! Easy, buddy.”

From the corner of his eye, Mike sees Chris yelp and point the gun at Wolfie. He even shoots, but Sam shoulders the gun away, and the bullet finds one of the trees.

“Damn you, Chris!” Sam chastises. “It’s his wolf! Easy on the trigger finger.”

“How would I know? It’s a fucking wolf!” Chris complains before his mind snaps and he runs to his best friend.

But none of this matters to Mike, because he found Wolfie again. Wolfie is fine! He’s going to take Wolfie home with him.

“Awww, so that’s the little one I should watch out for,” Sam playfully says, sitting next to them on the snow. “I’m jealous, Mike.”

“You don’t have to be,” he says after pushing Wolfie off him. “He’s a good boy, and will love you too.”

“He?” Sam laughs, shaking her head. “ _He?_ Are you completely blind, Mike?”

“What? Why?”

“Because it’s a _female_ wolf.”

“ _What?_ ” He exclaims, jumping to his feet to check under Wolfie’s tail. His entire face is flaming hot when he looks back at Sam. “Oh. Oh, shit. He’s a girl?”

“No, Michael. _She’s_ a girl.”

Their moment of being in a happy bubble shatters when a screech from nearby puts everyone on their feet—Wolfie included. She starts growling even more, putting herself between Mike and Sam and whatever’s coming for them.

Chris has his arms wrapped around Josh’s shoulders when he comes running back, and the remaining Washington boy has tears running down his face. He jumps to hug Sam when seeing her.

“Sammy!” Josh cries. “Hannah…I can’t believe…she…Beth…it can’t be…”

She looks startled at first—and Mike frowns at the uneasiness on her face, ready to do something to help—but soon her arms wrap around Josh’s middle, and she shushes him. “Shhh, Josh. Shhh. It’s okay. Don’t think about it. Right now, Josh, I need you to be completely still and quiet. Can you do that?”

“But Han…”

“I know, hon. But you need to stop thinking about that for a moment. Please. For me?”

It’s not half a second later that Josh goes quiet and stops moving altogether.

“I don’t understand,” Chris whispers, his shotgun aimed to somewhere over the trees. “They’re supposed to be nocturnal.”

“I guess we just need to hope this one is lost, then,” Mike mutters back, one hand holding the shotgun and the other touching Wolfie’s matted fur. “It can be blind and weak.”

“Or it can hungry and angry,” Sam whispers back, her hands leaving Josh to stead the flamethrower. “But whatever it is, we’re ready. If it wants to have a go at us, then this mountain is going to have one less wendigo.”

Just as she finishes her sentence, a white and spidery figure comes from the middle of the trees, sniffing the air and screeching. It does seem blind, jumping from tree to tree, trying desperately to localize the prey it sensed to be near.

Wolfie barks, and suddenly the wendigo is there, jumping so near them and screeching, screaming with its inhuman voice. Mike doesn’t hesitate before shooting the thing, making it fall on its back.

The next second, Sam burns it—until there’s nothing but wendigo remains. For good measure, Chris shoots it in the head, chest, and legs.

“Fuck,” Mike breathes, hugging Sam tightly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it was nothing,” she says with a smile, though her face is starting to look green. “I just…it’ll never feel less wrong to kill living things. Even if they’re evil things.”

He nods, and Chris runs to put Josh in a hug, too. “Let’s get out of here while we still can,” he says, voice wavering. “If those things can come out in the sun too, then we’ll never be safe.”

Even Josh, whose entire body is shaking, doesn’t complain.

Just as they’re ready to start moving again, getting the hell out of that place, another screech echoes.

This one is much louder than the previous one—for a brief, stupid moment, Mike wonders why. Why some of the monsters screech differently, why some are much louder than the others.

But the thought vanishes when he actually sees the thing dropping on its fours in front of them. It sniffs the air, screeches, jumps around.

And the guns aren’t in their hands now.

Their only luck is that, by now, Josh already realized that moving is a Very Bad Thing.

But apparently that isn’t their only strike of luck.

Out of completely, fucking nowhere, a crazy person appears with a flamethrower as big as Grandpa’s, and she fries the wendigo.

Just to make sure, the woman removes a machete from her belt and fucking chops the creature’s head off. Like it’s absolutely nothing, like she does that crazy shit all day.

The cherry on top of this cake is she takes her time to spit on the creature.

”Jesus, fuck,” Mike curses, eyes wide. “Who the hell are you?”

“Bennet,” the crazy, badass woman says. “Name’s Elizabeth Bennet.”

“Ah, wow, as in _Pride and Prejudice_?” Chris asks. It’s such an Ashley question, he can’t help but stare at the other man in bewilderment. This is seriously not the time.

“No,” the woman, Bennet, says. She totally has the same mood Grandpa had. “As in me.”

“Oh, cool.” Chris nods. It’s only now that Mike realizes the man is probably in shock and just blurting everything he can think, absolutely zero filters. “Are you a wendigo hunter, too? Do you know why they prefer chasing us at night?”

Her bewildered look is almost funny. “I’ll have to save the question for our next tea party.”

She doesn’t answer any other questions after that, just keep guiding them to somewhere safe. They all keep looking around in fear, though, clutching the weapons that are now secure in their hands.

Finally, when they’re inside a small cabin, Bennet grabs some maps and throws them in Sam’s arms.

“I trust you can find your way out of here now.” She scowls. “And I trust I don’t need to remind you not to come back?”

“We never wanted to come back in the first place,” Sam says defensively, throwing the maps at Mike. “We could have handled it alright, too. You didn’t need to step in.”

Bennet snorts. “Of course.”

“We did this before—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Bennet hisses, invading Sam’s personal space to stare her down. That does it to Mike, then—he throws the maps at Josh and puts himself between Sam and the crazy lady. All it does is make her vicious stare shift to him, though. “It doesn’t matter how many times you do it. It’s never safe, and it’s never a game. Don’t treat it like it is. Grow the fuck up. All of you.”

“Hey, there—”

She interrupts Mike before he can even think of an insult. “If you’re smart, you’ll take your friends and your little wolf and never come back.” Her eyes fall on his chopped fingers. “Unless you’re ready for the mountain to take more pieces of your body.”

How does she even know—

It doesn’t fucking matters, he tells himself.

“Flamethrower guy at least was a good man,” he hisses. “He knew stuff. He understood what was happening because his family—”

“Jack Fiddler was doing what I couldn’t do,” she says, venom dripping from every word. “His grandfather started protecting this mountain when my parents couldn’t do it any longer. You want to talk about family history? Let’s try this—my fucking mother was an undercover reporter who no one believed. She was there when the Sanatorium fell. She saw everything. My father was there, was one of the fucking doctors. And you know what else? He had to shoot his sister in the head to stop the transformation. That’s right—I know all the details about the transformation because of family history. Do you still want to talk?”

He feels slapped.

He’s pretty sure all of them feel slapped—maybe not Josh, but only because Josh is sorta out of it.

Sam grabs his forearm and squeezes, squeezes.

“We’re sorry for what happened to your family,” Chris finally manages to speak, his dialogue much more filtered now. “We...thank you, for helping us today. Thank you. We’ll just go now.”

Something about Bennet’s eyes...it’s unsettling. She looks dead, but she also looks like fire. And there’s this crazed glint in the back of her eyes, something Mike never saw in Grandpa’s—Jack Fiddler’s—eyes.

This mountain, it can consume people in all sorts of ways.

When Sam pulls him towards the door, he doesn’t complain, nor does he fight her.

He pets Wolfie quickly, but he doesn’t dare looking back at Elizabeth Bennet. Her story...the things about that Sanatorium...he always suspected that whatever happened there was much darker than what he first thought, but now...

He doesn’t have a single idea of what happened in that cursed place.

And he doesn’t want to know.

(Note to self: next time he wants to blow up buildings with monsters inside, make sure he kills _all_ of them. Not just two or three.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, i have this headcanon that Wolfie is a girl!
> 
> ~edited to include some details from The Inpatient! Nothing too spoilery, since it's all part of my own headcanons haha I totally ship Female!Inpatient/Gordon, and also want Gordon and Anna to be siblings! And I was really disappointed when people allowed others to go through the transformation. They could have been kinder.


	9. Resolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a small thing to wrap everything up! hope you enjoyed this little piece, :)

* * *

“Do you think he’s going to be okay now?” Mike asks Sam after they drop Josh and Chris at the Washington home. “I mean…I know he said he didn’t find anything up there…but maybe now that he knows the truth, for as awful as it is, maybe it’ll give him…closure?”

“I think that going back to see his doctor is going to help him,” Sam says with a shrug, head resting on Mike’s shoulders. “I try not to think too much about the truth, but…I don’t know. Josh’s mind is more complicated than ours. Chris promised to keep us informed anyway.”

“I really hope he gets better,” he says. “But at the same time, I’m happy that today…well…that you two are kind of okay, you know? And that Wolfie is with us now.”

As if to prove Mike’s point, Wolfie—who had been lying her head on his lap—barks excitedly before snuggling with them again.

“Good girl,” he tells the wolf absent-mindedly. God, it was hard to smuggle a wolf from Canada to the States. But they did it. And now Wolfie is safe, and they…kind of have a dog?

“Yeah, she’s a sweetheart,” Sam says, petting the gray wolf as well. “How do you think she’d feel about sharing us with a kitty?”

“I think she’d eat it.” Mike chuckles, but Sam’s expression is far from amused. “Sorry. Well, I don’t know. We could try later.”

Sam pouts, but nods anyway. “Yeah, fine. But I’ll bother her until she’s fine with it. Right, baby girl? Right?” Wolfie nudges his girlfriend with her snout, and Sam lets out a delighted giggle. “There’s a good girl. God, I love her so much already.”

“And here I thought it would take a while until we had kids.”

She swats his arm. “Are you thinking that far ahead?”

“I…yeah?” he blushes. “But it’s okay to go slow, since we still need to get back to college and all of that. Kids come later.”

“Thank you,” Sam says mockingly. “I didn’t really have the wish to be a teen mom. And I’d prefer to be married before popping up kids.”

“Is that your way of nudging me into asking?”

“No, of course not.” She turns to look at him, eyes so blue and so serious. “If I wanted to marry you right now, I’d have asked.”

“Oh, I see. Samantha Giddings is the one who wears the pants in this relationship!”

She laughs so loudly, he can’t help but laugh too. Wolfie whines, her tail swishing around in annoyance.

“What did you think of that woman, anyway?” Sam asks suddenly, breaking their light moment. “She seemed...intense.”

“You mean crazy?” He snorts, but there’s no humor. “I don’t know. She kind of gave me the creeps.”

“But what she said...about her family...that sounds so awful...”

“It was,” he agrees, twisting his arm to hug her more tightly. “But there’s nothing we can do now. The past is beyond our control, remember?”

“Quoting Josh new, are we?”

He rolls his eyes. After a second, Sam whispers, “Seriously now though, I was thinking…since not everyone saw our apartment yet…maybe we could invite everyone to eat something. Pizza for you guys, veggie wraps to me.”

He smiles. “That’d be nice. But…do you think the guys aren’t going to fight? I mean, I know everyone is getting along better now. But…maybe putting Ashley and Josh together…maybe that’s not the best idea.”

“Umm…yeah. I’ll speak with her first. And Emily. She holds grudges forever, and she still wants to punch Josh because of the Psycho thing.”

“Maybe this dinner will need to wait a few months, until everyone gets their shit together.”

Sam leans forward, her lips a breath away from his. “Then it’s a good thing we’re not going anywhere, right?”

He touches his lips to hers, gently, slowly. Damn. He really is going to marry her one day. Not today and not tomorrow, but _he is going to marry Sam Giddings._

* * *

 

Three months later, they have that dinner.

No one is punched in the face.


End file.
